


It's Just the Stardust in your Eye

by Aylwyyn228



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst and Feels, But lots of hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylwyyn228/pseuds/Aylwyyn228
Summary: Steve’d left the marines to get away from stress. Funny how life worked out.The Nostromo was basically falling apart. Its crew were one more vacuum-packed meal from throwing punches. Bucky was treating him like the whole damn social system of the galaxy was his fault. And the demons he was pretty sure he’d left safely locked in his apartment on Earth, appeared to have stowed away in the hold.All in all, not the stress free post-military career he’d had in mind.Also… what in Holy Hell had they let on board?An AU set in the Alien Franchise





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by You Are My Lucky Star by superheroresin (and their original prompter), as I would have never thought of an AU in this universe otherwise. It's listed in the Stucky Scary Bang collection of 2017 (as my exhausted brain is unable to work out how to add the link)
> 
> Anyway, this is horror, but I've tried to stay true to themes in both sources... In any case, if you've seen the Alien films, you will know that violence and death abounds... and also crawling through vents with a flamethrower, because that should be in every sci fi story!

Signal received

Initialising…

Reviewing transmission…

Source confirmed.

Start-up procedure confirmed. Manual override required. Cryostasis end sequence initialising…

 

 

Time elapsed – 00:23:13

 

Steve was still groggy as the door slid open and let him into the command centre. Groggy, and achy and cold.

He hated cryo. Always had. Even in the marines.

He knew it was a necessity. For long trips it saved the life support systems, saved on food, saved on the interminable boredom of a twelve-month deep space contract. He was pretty sure the only reason their little crew had lasted five whole contracts without coming to blows was that they’d only been conscious for about six months altogether.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling, every time he got into a cryotube, that this time he might not wake up. Might sleep for a thousand years, like something out of a fairy tale.

He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of all that ice.

He squeezed his way through the ring of monitors. The light was still flashing on the display, announcing the transmission which had triggered the ship’s start up code. He’d set Monty to work on tracing that.

Steve leaned over to flick onto the default screen, and printed the computer’s status updates with an electronic hum. Two months’ worth. Mostly 'anomalous data reading' and 'power drop in the propulsion system'. By definition, anything important would have woken them, therefore this was one of the more pointless tasks assigned to him.

Still, he supposed it was better than something being wrong and him not knowing about it. He flicked onwards. Six more pages. Double sided.

Steve sighed, ready to dump the readout on the side when something caught his eye. They were off course. The computer had picked up the transmission nearly a week ago and automatically plotted a rendezvous.

“Shit.” He turned back to the computer and got up their course position. He just stared at the screen. “Fuck.”

“Problems?”

He didn't hear the footsteps behind him, but then again, he never did. Bucky moved like a ghost.

He didn’t look up, still staring at the screen like he might be reading it wrong, like maybe cryo had fucked up his brain. But the coordinates refused to realign themselves.

He felt Bucky’s hand against his back.

“We’re three months from Earth.”

“Really?”

To the rest of the universe, Steve was certain Bucky would sound entirely disinterested, but Steve caught the flicker of hope underlying it. His heart gave an uncomfortable twist at the thought of what their return would mean for Bucky.

He straightened up.

Bucky was carrying a mug of the world's worst instant coffee. Seriously, Steve would've thought the company could've splashed out on something a little better than maternity ward style fifty cent coffee machines.

Even the smell made him want to retch.

Bucky just smiled tightly and held it out, waiting until Steve had taken it to lean back against the display, arms folded. "Monty hasn't managed to trace the signal yet. He'll radio when he finds it."

Steve took a slug of coffee. "'S probably nothing. Computer glitch." He gestured to the discarded readout. "There’s plenty of em. Be back in cryo by the end of the day."

He caught the twitch of Bucky’s jaw as he looked quickly away.

“Hey-“

“I know.” Bucky pulled away from his outstretched hand. By the time he looked back, the wicked smile was back firmly in place, only a little strained. “Dugan’s gonna hit the roof. He’s been bitchin to get back since about day two.”

“They got a baby, Buck.”

Steve really didn’t mean it to sound so reproachful. Bucky’s jaw tightened again.

Steve closed the distance between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Bucky said tightly.

Steve untangled one of Bucky’s hands from where his arms were folded and pressed it to his lips. “If you wanted the star that shines so brightly.”

“Stop,” Bucky said, but he was smiling.

“To match the stardust in your eye.”

Bucky gave a half-hearted attempt to pull his hand away. “You know I hate that song.”

Steve stepped forward and caught his waist, started to twirl them. “Darlin, I would chase that bright star nightly. And I would try to steal it from-”

Bucky kissed him. “Ok, enough singing now.”

He didn’t get a chance to answer as Bucky deepened the kiss, tugging at his lip with his teeth. Steve took the invitation and pressed forward. “You know, we could just not go back into cryo.”

“Mmmm?” Bucky was mouthing at his throat. “And spend the next three months listening to Dugan bitch about how he misses his hot wife? I’ll pass.”

Steve span them round, and hitched Bucky up onto the desk. “Just the two of us.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around his neck. “Just us two?”

“Mmhmm. We’ll wait til they’re all in stasis, then we’ll have the whole ship to ourselves.” He unbuttoned the top couple of buttons of Bucky’s shirt. “You can delete the computer records. No one’ll ever know.”

“Big ship for just the two of us.” Bucky kissed him again. “What’re we gonna do?”

“Gonna fuck you through the floor on every deck.”

Bucky started laughing. “God, you’re such a fucking mook. Then what?”

“Then I’m gonna make you listen to my entire music collection. The Supremes, Dusty Springfield, maybe a bit of Elvis.”

“Oh God…”

“Tie you to a chair and play Simon and Garfunkel on repeat.”

Bucky was smiling. Christ, he was beautiful.

Steve leaned in, pressed their foreheads together. “And I’m going to draw you. I’m going to sleep all wrapped up in you. I’m going to spend every day just watching you. Because no one will be able to stop me.”

“Ok, getting a little creepy there, pal.”

Steve kissed underneath his jaw. “Too far?”

“Hmmm. Stalker creepy, not quite serial killer creepy.”

“I’ll try to tow that line.”

Bucky started laughing, so hard that he just dropped his head onto Steve’s chest and shook, which made Steve laugh, just because.

Bucky’s hands slipped downwards tucking into his waistband and moving to unfasten them. Steve was so caught up for a minute, with Bucky’s hands on him, Bucky’s mouth on him, Bucky’s laugh hanging in the air, that he forgot where they were.

He snapped back, caught Bucky’s wrists. “We’ve gotta be careful.”

Bucky yanked his hands away, expression instantly icy, like Steve had flipped a switch. He jumped down from the desk, forced Steve back. “Sure.”

“Awww, Buck-“

“Nah, I get it.”

Bucky shrugged his off his hand, but Steve caught him again. He felt the tense strength beneath his fingers, knew that if Bucky really wanted, he could break his grasp easily.

Christ, he could break his arm easily.

“You know we can’t risk it, Buck.”

A laugh that was not amused. “You talk a good fight, Rogers.”

“Don’t be like tha-“

“I get it.”

Steve pulled at him, until he at least got him to face him. “We don’t know these people.”

“Five contracts. In a row. Same crew.” Bucky wrenched his arm back. Scowled. “Like I said, I get it.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know it’s not… Bucky.”

Bucky relented, turned to face him. In the stark light coming off the computers, his skin looked almost grey. His eyes were too bright. His mouth unhappily downturned.

Steve knew what Bucky thought, knew that there was no real way to explain it. Bucky had never given two shits what anyone thought. Never. It wasn’t in him to care. That was why it was on Steve to protect them. To protect them both.

Steve sat back against the table. “I won’t risk you.”

“I’m not yours to risk! You don’t own me!” Bucky threw his hands up to his face. “Shit! Fuck.”

Something uncomfortable twisted inside Steve’s stomach. He kept his voice very, very calm. “I know. I know that.”

Bucky let his hands drop, so Steve could see his face. See all that anger. “I’m sick of this. Of you being… fuck.”

Steve felt an icy thing grow in his stomach.

“Of what?” Steve asked it like he didn’t know. He was pretty sure it was the masochistic bit of him that wanted Bucky to say it. The destructive part of him that wanted to hear it. He could hear the ice in his own voice. “Sick of me being what?”

Bucky gave in, looked away. “You know,” he said quietly.

Steve closed the gap between them, pulled Bucky into a hug. There wasn’t an inch of give in Bucky’s body. He held himself absolutely taught.

Steve hugged him anyway, pressed his nose into Bucky’s throat.

“You know I love you.”

He felt Bucky sigh. “It’s not enough, Stevie.”

“Buck-“

Bucky pulled back. “I love you too.” The radio pinged on the computer. “I wish I didn’t.”

Steve was pretty sure his stomach was about to make a break for freedom out of his throat. “Bucky-“

The computer was insistently bleeping.

“That’s Monty.” Bucky was looking away.

Steve batted at the keyboard without taking his eyes from Bucky. “What?”

“I found the source of that transmission, Cap.”

“Good.” There was a heavy pause, Monty clearly waiting for more. “Where?”

“Be easier to show you.”

Steve wanted to swear at him, he settled for clenching his fist. “On my way.”

“Roger that, Skipper.”

The line clicked off.

“We should head over there.” Bucky was still half turned towards the doorway.

“I love you,” he didn’t know why he said it, except that it was a simple statement of fact. It was the truth that underlined everything else.

Bucky finally looked at him, jaw set in a tight smile.

“I know,” he said sadly.

***

Time elapsed – 00:42:35

 

“So, what’ve you found?”

Monty was engrossed in his screen, bomber hat back in its rightful place. Gabe and Jim had teased him relentlessly over that when they’d first met him, in the briefing room, five runs back. But Monty gave even fewer shits than Bucky did.

Steve envied them both a little.

He scanned over the room. Dernier, Dugan and Gabe were sat at the table at the back, still half wrapped up in towels. The cat was sprawled across Dernier’s lap as he murmured to it in French.

Monty looked up from his work, glanced over towards him and Bucky. “It’s from a planetoid. LV-426.”

Steve shook his head. “Never heard of it.”

“I’m not surprised. Tiny thing. Atmosphere’s like something out of a nightmare. High winds and poor visibility.”

“Downed ship. I’d put money on it.” Dugan wasn’t looking over, was fishing about in his clothes. He pulled out a cigar with a grin.

“Can’t smoke in here, Tim.” Steve leaned over Monty’s back, scanning over the screen. He pointed. “These are the atmospherics?”

“Bullshit. ‘S in my contract. I’m two months’ overdue my smokes break.”

Bucky snatched the cigar. “Yeah, and as per company regulations, the airlock’s that way, bud. You want an escort or what?”

“Like havin a goddamn spy on board.”

Steve felt himself bristle and very deliberately made himself not react. It wasn’t as if Bucky couldn’t handle himself.

Bucky just shot Dugan a smirk and hitched himself up onto the computer station.

Monty was waiting next to him, gaze flicking between Steve and the others, watching the fallout. Steve leaned in again. “How far away?”

Monty sucked in a breath. “Hour, maybe. We’re pretty far off course.”

“Wait, wait. How far off course? We getting paid extra for this detour or not?”

Steve ignored Dugan. “Can I see that chemical analysis again? This atmosphere’s survivable?”

“With a suit, yes.” Dernier was still stroking underneath the cat’s chin. He shrugged. “The temperature is within parameters and it is not corrosive.”

Monty laughed. “It’s hardly the Algarve though. As far as I can tell, winds are currently at Beaufort ten. And it’s raining sulphur.”

Steve was saved from answering by the cheer that erupted from Dugan.

“Sleepin beauty’s joined us!”

Jim was looking distinctly green, clinging on to the door frame. “Man, I am never gonna get used to being frozen. Shift, Gabe. I gotta have coffee.”

He stumbled across to the table and slumped down in between Gabe and Dugan. He poured himself a mug from the pot, downed it, and poured another.

“How many times you puke this time, Jimmy?”

“Seven. Which beat my record by two. Oh God.” He let his head drop forward onto the table with a thump, muffled his next words with his arm. “What’s goin on then?”

“The computer rerouted us to respond to an SOS.”

Dernier shook his head. “We do not know it’s an SOS.”

“We don’t know that it’s not.” Steve leaned back against the console, folded his arms. “Suggestions?”

“Given we’re practically there?” Monty said.

“Oh, no. We’re a container ship. Not a lifeboat.”

Gabe shot Dugan a look.

“Oh, come on. No one’s alive on the Planet of the Dead. Look how far out we are! It coulda gone down decades ago. I ain’t seen my wife in nine months. I just wanna get back in stasis and go home.”

“I oughta point out that we are contractually obliged to investigate any and all unidentified signals.” Bucky never once took his eyes from Steve. He shrugged, leaned back on his hands. “But what do I know. I’m just the muscle.”

Dugan scowled at him. “Did they make you memorise the contract?”

Bucky glared right back, tapped his forehead. “All burned right in.”

“Alright,” Steve stepped in between them, “we may as well look. I’m not leaving anyone down there if it’s an SOS, and if it’s not, we log it and go back into cryo. Right?”

Jim gave a muffled ‘Woo’.

Steve looked back at Monty. “You set us down when we get there.”

“Pleasure, Skip.”

“Once we’re down, Gabe, Jacques and Tim, you take a landing party out. Find where the signal’s coming from.”

He got a smattering of affirmatives.

Gabe was smirking. He nodded over at Bucky. “We could maybe use the muscle too.”

Bucky grinned and gave a mock salute.

***

Time elapsed – 03:09:47

 

Steve had quickly grown bored. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. As soon as they'd safely landed, Monty had took off with a flourishing bow and parting shot to holler when they wanted to lift off again. He'd sent Jim to check over the engines after being on auto for so long, and the others had gone to investigate the signal. 

So he was alone. 

He never quite got used to staying behind. Of course, he understood. As captain he couldn't just leave the ship, there had to be someone in charge here, but he did miss it. 

In the marines, he'd always been first into the action. Always in the vanguard. 

Now he seemed to spend his entire time looking through computer readouts and directing other people. 

For a second, he let himself imagine what would've happened if he'd stayed in the military, worked his way up. Perhaps he'd've been commanding soldiers instead of labourers.

But then there were plenty of things he didn’t miss. Plenty of things he’d rather forget. The flames at Orion still came back to him at night.

And, of course, he'd never have met Bucky. 

That strange thing had happened as soon as he'd met Bucky. Suddenly all his plans revolved around them. There was no longer any future without Bucky in it.

He wondered exactly how that happened. 

He sat up. "Mother?" He heard the computer whir into life. "Give me the latest meteorological reports." 

The computer gave an acknowledging beep and the screen lit up with neon green DOS. Wind speed was increasing. Looked like a storm front was heading towards them. 

Steve sighed and turned the screen off. 

Hopefully they'd be back soon. The weather had cut their radio contact down to minimum. Steve couldn't get in touch until they were practically at the ship. And they couldn't radio for help. Steve always got twitchy when his guys were out of sight.

That was one thing that hadn't altered from the marines. 

Maybe he'd have been a shitty CO after all. 

He idly let his view of the possible future slide into something else. The decorated war hero faded away. No attack ships. No pulse rifles. 

There was a village, out in Ireland. One of his cousins several times removed had still lived there and his father used to take him out there in the summer. When he was there, it was all bleak hillsides and rain, but in his head it was sunny. 

He doubted he could even get there now, he had no clear idea of where it was. Maybe it didn't even exist anymore, snuffed out by the encroaching smog.

But he could still remember the way the air smelled. 

He could try and find it maybe, or somewhere like it at least. He would have leave when they got back to Earth, a month or so. 

Maybe he could take Bucky out there.

Something in his chest twisted at that thought. The thought that to do that, he’d have to smuggle Bucky out of company headquarters. They'd have to run.

He didn't want to think about it, didn’t want to let reality ruin his daydream.

They could stay out there, in Ireland, no one would know them.

No one would know. 

Bucky was on the cliff, his hair was plastered to his forehead in the rain. He was standing too close to the cliff edge, laughing at how Steve was fretting. 

Jim took that moment to join him in Control.

Steve jumped up, pretending like he’d been doing something other than fantasising. “How's it looking?"

"Not too bad. Everything looks OK. Engine's drawing slightly too much power, but it's not serious. Put it in the report for when we get back." 

“Good. Will you take a look at the cooling system before we go back under? Got a ping a couple of weeks back."

"Sure thing, boss."

Jim dropped heavily into the seat opposite, rubbing at his eyes.

Steve watched him. “You feelin any better?”

“Mmmm. Suppose. Won’t be right for a coupla days. ‘Specially if we’re goin right back in deep freeze.” Jim sat up straight, leaned over the edge of his chair to access one of the lockers in the floor. There was a clinking noise, and then he sat back up, clutching a couple of bottles.

Steve leaned closer for a moment, before he recognised them as a brand of Japanese beer. He remembered Jim ordering it on their one and only crew bonding experience. It had been a grotty bar in San Francisco.

It hadn’t been very bonding.

“Not supposed to have them on board.”

Jim looked up from where he was cracking them open against the arm of his chair, eyebrow raised. “Lighten up, Cap. You ain’t Barnes.”

Steve had to fight very, very hard not to let his feelings show on his face. He took the offered bottle.

“Why do ya keep doin it?” He asked, as Jim raised his bottle in salute. “If it makes ya so sick?”

Jim grinned. “Gotta keep my wife in Chanel somehow.”

“I didn’t know you were married.”

Jim kicked his boots off and leaned back. “That’s the problem, no one knows shit about anyone on this ship.” He tipped his head and took a swig. “’Cept Dugan. And that’s only cos he won’t shut up.”

Steve smiled, and took a sip. It was nice, for what it was. He was never much of a drinker, these days even less, and never beer.

“What do you think of him?”

“Dugan?” Jim raised an eyebrow. “He’s got a mouth, but he’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Man’s straight as a die.” He shrugged. “You get what you see, you know?”

“Yeah…” And in that second Steve couldn’t help himself. It was dangerous, but he didn’t care. “What about Bucky?”

“Bucky?” Jim took a deep breath in and looked at the ceiling, like he was considering. “He’s efficient. Useful in a tight spot.” He looked back at Steve, frowned. “Why? You got a complaint?”

“Nah, nothin like that, I just meant… Well, do you like him?”

Jim pulled a face that said he didn’t know how to answer. “Yeah, I guess. He’s good for a laugh.” He shook his head, laughed. “I served with one on my last ship. Uptight bastard. I swear to God, he never cracked a smile in three years.”

Steve’s hand tightened on his bottle as Jim took another slug.

“You reckon they do that on purpose?” Jim asked.

“What?” Steve really needed to get his voice under control.

“Give em personalities and shit. Hell, I guess they must do.” Jim shrugged. “Maybe they’d be creepy otherwise. Like, maybe we’d get freaked out?”

“Tell me about your wife.”

“Marie?”

Jim settled back in his seat, like he was settling in for a long, long story. In that second, he reminded Steve absurdly of those old men in films who sit by the fireside, smoking pipes and reminiscing.

“There isn’t that much to tell. We met in college. She was always much cleverer than me but she didn’t want to believe it. She graduated, became a journalist, and well,” Jim shrugged, “you can’t get anywhere with that unless willing to tow the line, you know? And that ain’t Marie. She made a few enemies, got blacklisted from most of the companies. We couldn’t get by just on my salary, so,” he spread his arms, “here I am.”

“How long?”

“Ten years.”

Steve sat forward. “Ten years?”

Jim looked away. “’S not so bad. I get four times what I’d get paid on Earth.”

“Still, must be hard.”

Jim looked at him for a long time.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “it’s hard.” He took another drink. “It’s not really that long. You know with cryo and everything.”

Steve frowned. “For her though.”

Jim looked away again, toying with the bottle that he’d long since emptied. In the silence, Steve could hear every tap on the glass.

“She looks older than me now. I mean,” he gave a kind of loose shrug, “she was always older. But. She looks older now, you know?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a deep shudder from beneath them. It set a warning light flashing on the station.

He met Jim’s eye but only got a shake of his head in return.

"Mother? Get me Falsworth."

Monty picked up on video in a heartbeat. He was laid out in the communal quarters, like he'd said, still in his clothes, hat still on his head. Steve oughta have known he wasn't really taking a nap.

He didn't wait for Steve to start.

"I know." He was watching his screen rather than his camera. "I'm watching it. It’s geological shifting beneath us. The rain’s making the ground unstable, and this ship’s heavy enough to start a landslide. Also," Steve could see him rapidly scan down his screen through the flickery image, "wind speed’s picking up quickly. Pressure’s dropping." He met Steve’s eyes through the screen again. “This storm’s going to get much worse. We should take off asap.”

"Confirmed. We take off as soon as the team are back."

He turned back quickly. Quick enough to see the doubts on Jim’s face before he managed to school his expression.

And suddenly there were men screaming, the deep whump of pulse weapons. The hum of engines.

Steve leaned forward, rubbed his hands over his face. His fucking brain. 

“Cap?”

He looked up.

Jim hadn’t moved from where he was sat, but something in his posture had softened, like how you’d approach a puppy or scared horse. It kinda made Steve want to throw the computer monitor at him.

Jim smiled. “Monty likes frettin, but he’s a shit hot pilot.” He sat back, smile turning into a grin. “And I am a shit hot engineer. Stick with us, fella.” He pointed his thumbs at himself. “We’ll get this bird in the air.”

Steve’s laugh startled its way out of him. “You talk like a character in a bad action movie, you know that?”

Jim’s grin got even wider. “Made ya laugh though, didn’t it?”

Steve heard his radio ping, reached across to pat the line open, ready for some more of Monty’s scaremongering. 

"Stevie?"

He shot up, nearly tipped himself out of the chair to get to the screen.

Bucky was video calling from the console outside the airlock. He was clutching tightly at the metal handle for the door, being battered sideways by the storm. He'd lost his helmet somewhere along the way, and his hair was sticking to his face. The feed kept cutting in and out, like the rush of air was too much for the speakers. 

"Stevie, you gotta-" A static crackle cut off the feed, when it came back Bucky was staring straight into the camera. "Something's happened... Jacques. I don't-"

He glanced back over his shoulder, and whatever he was saying was lost to the wind. 

"Bucky? Buck?" Steve leaned into the microphone. "I can't hear you. Restate."

Bucky looked back at the camera again, eyes wide. "You gotta let me in, Stevie. Please. You gotta let me in."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Time elapsed – 02:22:53

 

“Some wind, huh?”

Jacques could barely make out Gabriel’s hazy form through the rain, but their radios were still clear, praise the Lord.

“Il pleut comme vache qui pisse.”

Gabriel’s laugh stuttered over the radio.

“Hey, buddy boy, stick to English.”

Dugan was way up front, and his voice came through staticky. The range on their radios was even worse than they’d predicted.

It was lucky they’d decided to use the guide rope between them.

“Why don’t you just learn French?” Barnes was the only one who didn’t sound out of breath. Bastard.

“Yeah, when I got a spare ten years, I’ll get right on that.”

Jacques caught his foot and stumbled. He felt the ropes on either side of his waist go taught. “Merde.”

He felt Barnes hand on his back. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I cannot see shit through this rain.”

Barnes was just nodding. “We’re about two hundred metres from the ship.”

“Are your eyes that good? Or are you cheating?” Dugan crackled over the radio.

“Infrared.”

Jacques could hear the smirk in Barnes’s voice.

It was barely five minutes later that Jacques could make out the ship, if you could call it that, leering out of the gloom. The filtration system in his helmet wasn’t working properly, letting his visor fog up, and so everything had a smoky edge, but even so…

This thing was…

 It curved up into the sky, like an opening maw. Like the jaw of some great beast.   

“Mon dieu.”

“I know, right? Shame we ain’t got a camera, no one’s gonna believe this shit!”

Gabriel sounded excited, rather than worried. Jacques wasn’t sure he agreed.

There was a tug on the rope behind him, and he stopped and glanced back, worried Barnes had fallen. But no, he was just stood, very still, staring at the ship.

“What’s the hold up?”

Dugan, at the front.

Jacques ignored him. “Barnes, state your condition.”

Slowly, Barnes turned to face him, face hidden by the glare on his helmet. “It’s not of Earth construction.”

“What?” Gabe had joined them. Dugan too.

“It’s not of Earth construction.”

He said it with exactly the same inflection as before.

“Look, buddy,” Dugan reached out to pat his arm, “I know it’s freaky lookin-“

“Bullshit,” the animation was back in Barnes’s voice, “I got a database of every commercial starship constructed in the last hundred years. It’s not from Earth.”

“Maybe it’s military.” Gabe said. “Experimental, you know.”

Barnes turned back up the ship.

Jacques wished suddenly that he could make out the expression on his face.

“Maybe,” Barnes said slowly.

***

There was no easy way inside. It was embedded deeply into the rock, crushed and crumpled by the force of its impact. And the longer they walked around it, the surer Jacques became that Barnes was right.

This couldn’t have been constructed on Earth. The seams on the metal were too perfect, too…

“Hold up!” Dugan called.

In the distance, Jacques could see that he was pointing at the metal.

“Access hatch,” he said, as they tramped up to meet him. “Anyone got any tools?”

“Don’t need tools,” Barnes snapped.

He stepped up to the hatch.

He slipped his fingers into the seam, braced a foot on the metal and wrenched it back. It sheared away with an eerie screech.

Dugan slapped him on the shoulder. “I forget you’re our very own multitool.”

He then laughed at his own joke.

Barnes did not reply.

Jacques kept his eye on him as they were unhooking the guide ropes. But it was hard to read him at the best of times, impossible in the suit.

Jacques waited until Gabriel and Dugan had slipped inside the hatch and flicked his radio onto a single line. He tapped Barnes on the back.

“Are you alright?”

Beneath the glare on the glass, Jacques could just about make out the tight clench of his jaw.

“Yes.”

Barnes ducked through the gap before he could ask anything else.

Jacques followed.

Inside, the others already had their flares lit and were surveying the dark interior.

He tapped his on and it instantly wavered and died.

“Urgh,” he slapped the light with his palm, until it flickered back on, “why do I always get this shitty suit?”

“Was made for you, bud,” Dugan laughed.

There was an electronic hiss behind them. Sharp in the dark. Dugan’s eyes went wide and he latched onto Jacques elbow.

He span round, just as Barnes was pulling his helmet off, shaking his hair out.

“Espèce d’idiot!” He jerked his arm away from Dugan. “You scared me.”

Dugan was still looking at Barnes, frowning. “I hate when he does that. I always forget.”

Gabriel stood up from where he’d been setting up their scanner, set it off with a pulse of green light. “Why’d ya wear it at all?”

“Didn’t wanna get my hair wet.”

He was so deadpan, it was impossible to tell if he was joking. The statement hung there in the silence.

“Right, well,” Gabriel leaned over the scanner, “this’s coming up negative for anything toxic, so shall we do a sweep?”

“Sounds good to me. You and me?” Dugan gestured between them and Gabriel nodded.

“Then let’s go,” Barnes said without ceremony, and stalked off through the dark, leaving the rest of them floundering.

***

Jacques’s light was still flickering. It would be steady for a while, and then start strobing off the sides of the walls and the back of Barnes’s stark white suit.

It made Barnes seem to stutter and start, like an old stop motion film. Jacques was mostly following the sound of his helmet clinking off the belt he’d hung it on.

The floor was tilted downwards on the left, courtesy of the ship’s crash landing. So he could never quite predict where his next step would fall.

The whole thing was making him feel sick.

“Urgh, can we stop?”

In the beat of space between the flashes, Barnes was suddenly up in his face. He stumbled back, away from the nightmare look on his face. Hit the wall, behind him.

It creaked and bowed beneath his weight.

“Be careful. The structure’s unstable.”

Jacques blinked and calmed his heart rate. “I can’t see with this light.”

“Turn it off. If you stay on my shoulder, my light should be enough.”

He did as he was told.

Barnes was right. It was darker, but more bearable.

He could see Barnes properly now, and whatever terrible image he’d thought he’d seen was replaced with an impassive look.

Though the longer he looked, the more he caught an edge of strain around his eyes.

He wanted to ask, but before he could, Barnes turned around. “Come on.”

He stayed close to Barnes’s back, and could finally properly inspect their surroundings.

There were thick wires strung along the sides of the corridor, dripping moisture onto the ground and curling around each other.

He frowned. “Attendez.”

He stepped up close to the cables and saw that they were more like vines… no, lianas, growing along the length of the corridor.

“These are biological,” Jacques said, interest piquing.

“Hmmm?”

 He glanced back over his shoulder. “Indigenous flora, perhaps.” He leaned back in to the lianas. “Or perhaps the ship was carrying them.”

Barnes hummed again. “We should keep moving.”

“Yes.”

He reluctantly turned away as his light source abandoned him. It was unsurprising really, that Barnes should have so little interest in biology. But once he had satisfied Barnes by completing their mission, he would return to take a few samples.

He skipped a few steps to catch up with Barnes stride, snatching a glance at his profile, and finding him expressionless.

“Ask Jim when we get back,” Barnes said, after a long silence, “see if he can fix your light.”

Jacques hummed in agreement.

There was another pause. Only their footsteps, the clunk of Barnes’s helmet.

“If not, I’ll see he can modify the suits, so we can swap.” Barnes looked across, scanning over him. “I’m a bit taller than you, but we’re pretty much the same size. I don’t need the light so much, so…”

He shrugged, trailed off.

“Thank you.”

Barnes shrugged again. “No problem.”

They carried on for a few steps. Then Barnes sighed, stopped. “Dugan was right, no one’s alive here.”

Jacques scanned over his face, over the tense way he was holding himself. “Do you want to go back?”

_Are you frightened?_

He didn’t ask it. It was a stupid question, even if it had been on his mind since Barnes’s pronouncement on the trek across. The answer had to be no. It _had_ to be.

And if it wasn’t, Jacques didn’t want to know about it.

Barnes was chewing at the inside of his lip. “We’re supposed to investigate all signals.”

“That is not what I asked, mon pote.”

Barnes smiled tightly.

“Let’s go on,” he said it tentatively, at first, peering up the corridor. Then he nodded and met Jacques’s eyes. “A bit further.”

***

When they finally emerged out of the corridor, the sudden expanse of space had Jacques taking in a breath. It was like stepping into a cathedral, or a theatre. The low ceiling giving way to a huge dome.

Jacques had to take a minute just to take it in.

Barnes didn’t seem affected by the sight, he hadn’t missed a step before walking out into the space. “Watch the floor, it’s not level.”

“It’s been here a long time.”

Barnes hummed. “Long enough for the metal to start to corrode. Be careful.”

Jacques was beginning to grow tired of Barnes’s nervousness. He bit his lip, not particularly wanting to get into a row.

He settled on something neutral.

“We should look around.”

“Yes.” Barnes said it without any conviction at all.

He didn’t move.

“Come on.”

He struck off into the chamber and flicked his light back on, so he could lead. The random flickering was more bearable than Barnes’s hesitation.

The strange fibrous lianas continued, hanging from the walls and ceiling.  

“I think we should meet back up with the others.”

Jacques tutted, before he could catch himself. “It is not time for the rendezvous.” He stopped, pointed. “Do you see that over there?”

There was what looked to be a recess in the floor, pale mist drifting up from it.

He looked back to see Barnes nodding. “It’s warmer than the rest of the ship.”

“I’m going to look.”

Barnes made a noise like he was about to speak, and then cut himself off.

Well, good. Jacques was Science Officer. Barnes had no recourse to contradict him.

When he reached the recess, he grew instantly excited. This was definitely biological. Possibly related to the lianas.  

It was so long since he’d had anything to do but basic first aid.

Maybe he could even write this up. Finally do something with the PhD that had so far given him nothing but debt and stress.

The recess was around four feet deep, shallow enough that he could jump down into it easily.

At its base were large almost spherical objects, which appeared to be haphazardly growing around the weaving vines. His first thought was that they must be seed pods.

If he could get a sample, then they could freeze it in the hold for him to examine when they got back.

He jumped down with a thud that made the metal around him vibrate, already mentally running through the people he was still in contact with from Strasbourg.

“Are you alright?” Barnes came in instantly over the radio.

“Ouais.”

Barnes had been right, the pods were warm to the touch, even through the suit. He settled back on his heels to search in his bag for his sample bottles.

There was a rustling creak.

Jacques froze.

He looked up, feeling the thud of his heart in his chest.

Another creak.

And an icy shiver passed across his skin, just as his light took that moment to start strobing again.

“Barnes?”

He said it so quietly that he was worried the radio wouldn’t pick it up.

There was a beat of silence.

Jacques kept absolutely still as everything else seemed to be moving around him. He couldn’t tell with the light, couldn’t see properly at all.

“Yeah?”

It was too loud.

The pod next to him gave a shudder and he was up and stumbling backwards.

“My light…”

He tripped back over the uneven floor, thudded into the ground with a thump that rattled his teeth.

His lamp wavered and went dark.  

His breathing sounded endlessly loud.

“Barnes?” he whispered.

“I can’t find you? Is your flare out?”

He couldn’t answer. There was something moving down by his feet.

“Jacques?”

He felt it rather than saw it. The _thing_ tense itself.

He threw himself upwards, felt something thud into his arm as he moved. He staggered forward through the dark, waving his hands blindly, but he couldn’t find the edge to pull himself up. He just kept catching his feet on the vines and the pods.

And the _thing_ was still moving. He could feel the scuttle of it in the space around his feet.

There was a flash of light, a downward rush of air. He gasped, almost fell backwards, and something was grabbing at him, clutching at his flailing wrists.

“It’s me, it’s me.”

Jacques stopped struggling and managed to make out Barnes’s face in the dark. His eyebrows were drawn together. He was still holding his wrists.

He nodded up at the ledge.

“I jumped down from… You good?” Barnes broke into a faint smile. “You freak yourself out down here?”

He couldn’t answer.

Barnes frowned and turned his wrist over. “What’s this?”

There was something dark across the arm of his suit. Something sticky.

Barnes was peering down at it. “Jacques…”

He grabbed Barnes’s shoulder. “There’s something down here.”

“Wha-“

There was a skittering noise behind him.

He jerked to the side.

Barnes let out a grunt as a pale shape bounced off his chest and away to the floor.

In the stream of light as Barnes turned, Jacques saw its long scuttling fingers tense to leap again.

“Attention!”

He shoved Barnes backwards. Heard his shout of surprise. The heavy thud of his body hitting the wall.

The screech of shearing metal.

Suddenly there was light, flooding in around the jagged metal hole.  

Something thumped into the side of his helmet, and he could _see_ it.

Its spindly spider legs squeaking against the glass, like long grasping fingers.

He felt a jolt of visceral repulsion.

Grabbed at its legs.

Wrenching at it to Get. It. Off.

He threw himself backwards, convulsing and contorting to rip it away, feet tangling, and tripping and he was falling back.

It knocked the breath out of him, flat on his back.

He tried to twist his arms up, but his limbs were all caught up in the trailing lianas. And he just couldn’t wrench them free.

Its legs were skittering and sliding over metal and glass.

Barnes was screaming down his radio. Over and over again.

“Dernier, report! Report!”

The _thing_ heaved itself over the front of his helmet with a wet squeal, and he saw the slick pink of its underbelly before it drew back and slammed through the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jacques :'(
> 
> This was only about half the chapter I'd intended to post, but with the return of anxiety and the black dog, I didn't manage to get it done. 
> 
> I do, however, promise that we will be back to Steve next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Time elapsed – 03:35:23

“Stand by.”

Steve flicked the switch to open the bay doors, trying to calm his breathing.

Bucky was back. He was back, and he was safe.

But Jacques… and the others…

He’d never heard Bucky sound like that. Never.

Buck was always calm, he was… Well, of course he was…

But…

He’d paced across the control room before he’d realised.

“Cap,” Jim touched his arm and he jumped, “we don’t know what’s happened yet.”

“Did you hear him… Did you-“

The line crackled back on. Steve shoved Jim away and practically vaulted the chair to get back to the screen.

Bucky was huddled just inside the bay door. Out of the wind and the elements, the video was clearer. He was too close, the camera picking up only the top right side of his face.

“Buck, what happened?”

He felt Jim leaning round him to watch the screen.

“Jacques... Somethin happened. I couldn’t… We got separated. I had to… I had to come back.” His voice suddenly became clipped. “Directive 72A.4: in the absence of overriding orders, synthetics left unsupervised must return to their appointed base.” Bucky blinked, and he was back. “It’s something biological. I don’t know, Jacques was lookin at it. It was fast, I didn’t… And then I fell…”

Steve had never seen Bucky even half this upset.

“Calm down, alright.”

“I’m always calm,” Bucky snapped. Now was not the time to point out that he was neatly proving Steve’s point. Over the feed, he caught Bucky’s frown. “Stevie, I got it on me. Whatever got Jacques. I don’t know.”

Steve felt an icy shiver pass over him.

Jim was tapping at his arm. He shifted over, so he could get to the microphone.

“Barnes, give me details.”

A flash of some emotion passed across Bucky’s face at the sound of Jim’s voice. But it was gone before Steve could interpret it.

“Black organic substance.”

“Toxic?”

“Unknown.”

“Jim?”

Jim held up his hand to stop him.

“Ok, alright. It’s on your suit?”

“Yeah.”

Jim leaned over to the computer station, brought up quarantine procedures. “Ok, it says that as long as any contaminants are removed, and you go through de-con, synthetics are exempt from quarantine. You can’t carry pathogens internally, so…”

Steve was watching the feed. Bucky was nodding along like he already knew the regulations, which to be fair, he probably did. He started stripping off the suit, ducking out of the camera’s eyeline.

Steve glanced across at Jim, who was rubbing at his wrist. He frowned, then remembered. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

Jim grimaced. “Had worse, boss, don’t sweat it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jim just smiled.

“Shit.” They both leaned over the screen again. Only the top of Bucky’s head was visible at the bottom of the video. “I think it went through the suit.”

Steve’s stomach dropped into his boots. “Bucky, restate.”

Bucky popped back onto the feed.

“It’s just my hand.” He held up his left. Steve could make out the dark stain across the wrist and up the inside of his arm.

He heard Jim suck in a breath.

“What?”

Jim leaned close to his ear. “Synthetics have to remove contaminants. Quarantine doesn’t work. In twenty-four hours we still won’t know if the substance is toxic because he won’t get sick from it.”

“What are you-“

“I got an idea.” Jim cut him off, loudly enough for Bucky to hear. “Barnes, section 4.2B. You know it?”

Bucky blinked once. Twice. “Acceptable.”

Steve was absolutely lost now. Jim’s face gave absolutely no clues at all.

“What’s-“

He didn’t need to finish, it was clear what section 4.2B was as soon as he glanced back at the video. “No. Not that.”

Bucky had the wires stripped back in his elbow. His other hand was fishing about inside, milky coolant trickling out over his wrist and dripping to the floor.

Jim’s hand was back on his arm. “Cap-“

“Steve, listen, it’s this or I get marked down as damaged equipment and I get to sit in the hold for the next three months.”

“But that’s…” Steve couldn’t even put words to how stupid that was.

“It’s fine. There’s a release catch in here some… There. Got it.”

Steve heard the click through the feed, and Bucky’s arm came detached in one motion. He tugged it away from the lingering wires, and tossed it smoothly out into the storm.

“Done. Get me into de-con, punk. Let’s get goin.”

Steve just stared at the screen, until Jim leaned across him and flicked the switch.

“I’m… I’m goin down there.”

Jim nodded, patted his back. “Sure thing, boss. Go debrief. I’ll see if I can bump up the range on the radio, get in contact with Gabe.”

***

Steve was waiting outside the door when Bucky got out of de-con, hair slick to his forehead and stripped down to his skin.

Steve instantly dragged him into a hug, pressed his nose into his neck. He smelt faintly of cleaning fluid. Ammonia.

“God, I-“

Bucky huffed and cut him off. “I’m alright, aren’t I? Promise, Stevie, I’m fine.”

Steve pulled back and handed over the clothes he’d snagged for him on the way down. It was only then that he remembered, glancing back to see Bucky trying to pull on pants one handed.

“Oh.”

As Bucky straightened up, he brought a hand up to cup the exposed mesh of Bucky’s elbow.

He felt Bucky’s hand on his cheek. “Repairs when we get back. It’s nothing.”

He disturbed one of the overhanging wires and a couple of drops of the coolant smeared across his thumb. A noise escaped the back of his throat before he could stop himself.

“Hey.” Bucky tucked his thumb beneath his chin, forced him to look up. “It’s inconvenient, that’s all.”

Steve nodded wordlessly.

There was nothing in his face to indicate that Bucky was the least bit distressed. 

It was times like this that really reminded Steve that Bucky wasn’t human. Not in the slightest.

Steve kissed him. The de-con fluid was sharp against his tongue.

He pulled back. “What happened?”

“We found the signal source. Downed ship, like we thought.” He grimaced, pained expression wrought all over his face. “We split up. Me and Jacques, and Dugan and Gabe. Lookin for anyone one alive. Whole place was unstable. Didn’t find anythin. Not even bodies.” He ran his hand over his face. “Then we get to these, I dunno, these pods, eggs, fuck knows. Jacques wanted a sample, so he jumps down to get closer. I was just lookin around, seeing what else I could find, making sure the superstructure wasn’t just gonna collapse.”

He trailed off, eyes ticking over nothing as he looked at the floor.

“Buck.“

Bucky shrugged off his hand. Took a deep breath he didn’t need.

“Jacques was callin for me, over the radio. So I ran back and one of these pods is open and there’s this _thing_ -“

He cut himself off again.

This time he accepted Steve’s hand against his shoulder, leaned into it.

“And this thing… Jacques just shoves me outta the way. I musta stepped funny cos all of a sudden I’m through the floor, metal just sheared away underneath me, I’m out through the main hull into the rain. And I could hear Jacques, and he was just screamin, Stevie, and I couldn’t get back in, couldn’t find a way, and I had to come back…”

He looked up, and for a second all the fear just slipped away to be replaced with frustration. “I _had_ to come back.”

“I know you did.”

Some things were just coded in. Steve knew it burned at him, when he reached a block he couldn’t get through. Programming that he was unable to discount, no matter what the circumstances.

“It’s not your fault.”

Bucky didn’t answer. Looked away. “I don’t know what happened to Dugan and Gabe. If we weren’t at our rendezvous, they’d come back here, wouldn’t they?”

Steve shook his head. He didn’t know. There were too many variables. They might decide to go back and look if they thought Bucky and Jacques were missing.

Jacques _was_ missing.

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. Closed his eyes.

“Perhaps I should go out again?”

Bucky’s tone was overly deferential. Fake.

And Steve knew what it was.

Bucky couldn’t leave the ship again without express orders. He was asking for tacit permission to go back and do what he hadn’t been able to the first time.

Just the thought made Steve feel sick. He wanted Bucky safe, for obvious reasons, but it was the same, with Jim, with Monty. Sending them out there…

“No.”

Bucky tightened his jaw, that way he always did when he wanted to say something that he couldn’t. “Protocol two point-“

“Buck. I can’t.”

The others were still missing. Dugan and Gabe.

Oh God, Jacques could be hurt, could be dead. Christ, could be dying right now, and he was just standing here and what was he gonna say to HR? What was he- Would he have to tell his family? There might be a tribunal. There might-

“Steve.”

Bucky was squeezing his hand. Rhythmically. Four and a pause, seven…

He recognised the pattern, tried to breathe with it.

It was working mostly, and then Bucky faltered in his perfect timing. Squeezed his hand tight.

Steve looked up, but Bucky was looking away. Eyes tracking nothing again.

“He was screamin, Stevie. Could hear him over the radio.”

He looked so, so young.

Even if it was impossible. Even if Steve knew it couldn’t be true.

And in an instant, Steve let everything else go. Because Bucky was here, and Bucky was hurting.

He shifted to cup the back of his neck, until Bucky leaned forward, pressed his face into the front of Steve’s shirt.

And Steve started rubbing long lines up his back, even if Bucky was still stiff as a board in his arms. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“How do you know?” Bucky’s voice was muffled against the fabric. “You weren’t there.”

“I know you.”

“Fuckin sap.”  He pulled away. “I knew somethin was wrong. That ship-“

He cut himself off, looking away, eyes back scanning over nothing.

Steve just kept stroking up and down his arm, until his curiosity became unbearable. “What about the ship?”

Bucky frowned, still looking off to the side. “I dunno.”

“Maybe it just felt-“

Bucky snapped back to him, features all pointed in a look of disdain. Of frustration that he couldn’t explain what he meant.

“I don’t just get feelings, Steve. There was something _wrong._ ” His tone softened again, and he looked away. “I just couldn’t find it.”

Steve let a couple of seconds tick by while Bucky sorted through whatever he needed to. Still stroking up and down his arm.

It helped him even if Bucky didn’t need it.

Bucky turned back to him. “I’m sorry. Jim was there.”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“I musta called you Stevie, like, eight times.” Bucky gave a tight smile. “I’m pretty sure he noticed.”

“He probably didn’t, with the everythin that was goin on.”

Bucky smiled again.

“You’re a real bad liar, you know that.” He leaned up to press a light kiss to the corner of his lip. “I’ll be more careful.”

Steve laughed and kissed him back.

“I wasn’t exactly cool in there. It’ll be alright. Blame it on you gettin knocked about a bit. We’ll explain it away.” He rubbed a tiny circle into the side of Bucky’s temple. “Tell em all something got knocked loose in there.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The expression that passed across Bucky’s face was pained.

Steve cupped his face again. “Why not let them see you?”

Bucky shrugged back. “You know damn well why not. It leads to questions.”

“But it wouldn’t-“

Bucky caught his wrist, as he made another abortive attempt pull him closer. “Synthetics don’t get familiar. We don’t form personal relationships. We behave entirely within the parameters of our PEP to ensure successful user interface.” He shook Steve’s wrist. “I’m doin what you wanted. What you asked me to.”

“I never wanted you to hide.”

Bucky softened. “No choice, darlin. I’m a malfunction.”

“You’re special.”

A faint smile played across Bucky’s face. “I dunno, us A2s, shoddy workmanship. We’re all glitchy.”

Steve smiled.

“Temperamental, maybe. I wouldn’t say glitchy.”   He shifted and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Bucky made a noise. “Shoulda been there with Jacques. I shoulda gone back.”

“I know.” Steve breathed in tightly, dropped his hand to Bucky’s and squeezed. “Come on, let’s get back up to command.”

***

Jim had all the panelling stripped from the floor when they got back, leaning down into the wiring.

He must’ve heard them enter because he sat up.

“Best I can do.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Might be a bit clearer.” He nodded down at Bucky’s arm. “Alright?”

“Fine,” Bucky said tightly.

“You didn’t get anythin?”

Steve already knew the answer from the look on Jim’s face, so it was no surprise when he shook his head.

“They’ve officially missed their rendezvous, as of,” Jim stood up, swiping his hands down his cargoes and leaning over to the computer, “fifteen minutes ago.”

“Seventeen,” Bucky said under his breath, “and thirty-eight seconds.”

Steve shot him a look, which Bucky pointedly ignored.

Steve tried to concentrate on the problem at hand.

His first officer, second engineer and science officer were officially missing. He trawled back through his memory trying to picture the page in the MTP guidelines on this, but honestly, pretty much everything from his training and competency exam was a blur.

He wasn’t even sure he’d ever read that section.

That was pretty much the shittiest bit of his life, and he knew he was passed purely on the interview. Bucky was right, he always could talk a good fight.

It was when he actually had to put any of it into practice that he came unstuck.

Right now, he didn’t have a fucking clue what he should do.

And the worst thing was that he could see in Jim’s face that he knew it too.

Thankfully, he was spared from having to say something godawfully stupid by Monty’s arrival.

He barely shot them a glance, heading right over to the computer station. “We’ve got trouble. The storm front is heading this way and seismic activity has incr-“ He glanced over, eyebrows shooting up at the sight of Bucky. “What the devil happened to you? Never mind. Later. We need to take off now.”

“The others aren’t back yet.”

Monty did a rapid scan over all of them. Steve was pretty sure their body language said everything it all when Monty sat back in his chair and clasped his hands beneath his jaw. “Ah.”

He felt the press of Bucky’s hand against the small of his back in solidarity. A faint squeeze against his skin.

He looked back to Monty. “Can you get us ready to leave?”

“Certainly, skip.”

Monty swivelled his chair around to the controls.

The hum of the engine started to vibrate below their feet. Bucky was drawing circular patterns on his back, grounding him in the present instead of in the fate of their colleagues out in the storm.

“Can I ask,” Monty began, very, very carefully, not taking his eyes off his screen, “whether this is a precautionary measure, or if you’re planning an imminent take off?”

“What ya talkin about?” Jim was up in his face in an instant. “We gotta go out after em.”

“I was just-“

“Ain’t no just about it. We ain’t takin off without em.”

“Jim,” Steve warned.

Jim was a good guy, but he had a temper like a Rottweiler, and a sense of fair play a mile wide. He doubted even a fella as easy-goin as Monty would be able to keep his cool in the face of all that.

They didn’t need to be at each other’s throats.

He was self-aware enough to know that Bucky would’ve laughed himself stupid over the hypocrisy of Steve’s description of Jim, but there weren’t any reason that he had to know about it.

Jim’s eyebrows were drawn tight together. “Well, we’re not. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

“None of us will be leaving at all unless we take off in the next half hour,” Monty said quietly.

Jim made a face like an angry bulldog. He turned to Steve. “Cap, we can’t.”

“We won’t.” Steve wasn’t aware that he’d made that decision until it came out of his mouth, but from the way Bucky patted at his back, he was pretty damn sure he approved. “But I am open to suggestions.”

“Search party.” Jim nodded like it was already decided.

“And if they don’t come back either?” Monty was still increasing engine power.

Jim squared up to him again, apparently uncaring that Monty hadn’t so much as glanced round to face him. “Then none of us do. We all get back, or none of us do.”

“Jim-“ Steve started, but was cut off by Monty.

“Not a very tactically sound strategy.”

“Could you go home,” Jim stepped right up to Monty’s side, “knowin you’d left em here?”

Monty finally looked up at him, he didn’t take his hands from the controls, or move to stand. His voice was icily calm. “I’d rather at least some of us got home, regardless of whether I’m one of them.”

Steve heard a huff from behind him. “Alright, fellas, you wanna put your dicks away? You both got me beat, anyhow.”

Monty and Jim both shot him suitably cowed looks, and when he looked back to meet Bucky’s eyes, he got a tiny smirk back.

Bucky gestured. “You got the floor.”

And holy Christ, he wished he didn’t.

He looked to Monty. “Thirty minutes?”

Monty chewed the inside of his lip like he wasn’t sure at all, but he nodded.

“Alright, me and Jim’ll go out.” He felt Bucky’s hand twitch against his back. “But we’ll only survey their route back, see if we can make radio or visual contact. And we’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

He stared Jim down as he said that, all but darin him to disagree. If his reputation was all he had, he’d better make the most of it while it lasted.

Jim blinked first.

Bucky caught Steve’s arm as he turned to leave. “I wanna go with you.”

“We need two people on the ship.”

Bucky tightened his grip. “Steve, you gotta let me go out there.”

Steve knew he was still thinking of having to leave Jacques. “You were injured. There’s no justification to send you out again. No one would.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, as if that description couldn’t possibly apply.

But Steve didn’t care. Maybe that just made him a dumb, sentimental human or whatever, but he was pretty damn sure that losing an arm took you off active duty.

And Bucky could argue procedures with him later, right now they had to get going.

He tugged his arm out of Bucky’s grasp, just as he opened his mouth to speak. But Monty cut in before either of them could do anything.

“I’m not sure it’s worth you havin this argument, chaps.”

Monty was out of his seat, over by the window, stock still and peering out into the storm.

Steve felt his stomach turn over. “Can you see them?”

“Yes.”

Jim was back at Steve’s side in an instant, fingers curling into his sleeve. “All of them?”

“Yes,” Monty said again, but something in his tone was off. He turned to look back at them over his shoulder. There was something unreadable in his expression. “You might want to get the med suite ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to God, I will get to some plot that isn't talking!


	4. Chapter 4

They were all crowded by the screen, by the time the bay camera alerted for an incoming call. It was tight, the four of them squeezed around Monty’s panel, and Steve was uncomfortably aware of both Bucky’s proximity, and the press of Jim’s hip against his other side.

As soon as the ping came through, Monty opened up the camera feed.

The fuzzy image of Dugan fizzed into view. “Open the lock. We need to get Jacques to medical.”

Steve met Bucky’s eye, saw the shake of the head. He leaned into the microphone. “What’s your status?”

“Are you listening to me? Frenchie’s hurt! Somethin attacked him!”

Dugan stepped away from the camera and Steve could see Jacques prone figure, dragged across Gabe’s lap. There was a dark mass covering the front of his helmet.

He felt Bucky tense, heard the huff of Jim’s ‘oh shit’.

“Are you listening up there? Jesus Christ! This is-”

“Tim! Tim, listen. Quarantine is twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours until I can even open the door.”

There was an eruption of shouting down the feed which was too confused to make anything out of.

Monty covered up the microphone and tipped his head back until Steve could see his eyes beneath the hat. “We almost certainly can’t wait twenty-four hours to lift off.”

“Steve! Cap!” Gabe shoved Dugan away from the camera. “I dunno how long we have. He needs medical attention.”

“I’m aware of that, but we can’t risk bringing pathogenic lifeforms on board. Quarantine is twenty-four hours.”

Dugan forced his way back into shot. “You let him in!”

Bucky flinched at his side.

Steve leaned down to the microphone again, so his words would go through loud and clear. “The procedures aren’t the same for synthetics. We followed-“

“Bullshit!”

He sighed, turned to Monty. “Can we take off with them in the hold?”

“Not unless you want to scrape them off the interior wall.”

Even before he finished the sentence, there was an ominous shudder through the ship.

Jim patted his shoulder. “Let them in, man.”

Steve shook his head. “We don’t know what they’re carrying.”

Monty shrugged. “Possibility of picking up some weird other worldly tsetse fly verses the certainty that this weather is going to wreck our engines? I’ll take my chances.”

He looked to Bucky, who shrugged. “I can’t get sick, pal.”

The unspoken ‘up to you’.

Steve sighed, opened the airlock, leaned into the microphone. “Get locked down. We’re taking off in t minus two minutes.” He looked round the others. “Let’s go.”

They moved quickly.

Him and Bucky took the two seats on the left side, Jim in one of the ones on the wall opposite. Steve’s hands were shaking as he struggled to fasten the seat restraints. Bucky reached across to squeeze his hand, and then clicked it into place.

As he looked up, Steve saw Jim look away quickly.

Monty was in position, strapped into one of the pilot’s seats, punching in the controls. The deep thrum of the engine vibrated through the seat, accompanied by the more irregular shifting of the earth beneath them.

“Radio.” The line clicked on. “Gabe, confirm ready to lift off.”

There was a pause, seconds ticking by.

“Confirmed, Cap.”

“Go, Monty.”

Monty tipped his hat. “F.A.B., Skip.”

The ship shuddered beneath them, force pressing them down into their seats, but they were airborne.

They were rising steadily. Steve could just about see the jagged landscape out of the viewing window, though with the swirling winds and their engines kicking up dust, and the driving rain into the glass, visibility was godawful.

“Shit.” Monty’s face was tense. “Cross winds are-“

They dropped downwards suddenly, and Steve’s stomach flipped.

“Sorry. It’s gonna be a bit choppy. It’s-”

They lurched sideways, buffeted by some gust aiming to send them into the ground.

He could see Monty fighting the controls, the white tense bone beneath the skin of his hand. He glanced over his shoulder. “Barnes? Can you co-pilot one handed?”

Bucky was already moving. “Confirmed.”

He staggered forward under another air pocket, and Steve felt his heart clench at what would happen if they were to drop out of the sky now, with Bucky out of his seat. But in a heartbeat, it was over, and Bucky was fastening his belts in the seat at Monty’s side.

He was all concentration now, with the strange eerie stillness that settled over him sometimes. “Altitude eighteen thousand feet.”

Jim was clutching tightly against the arm of his seat. He caught Steve looking and flashed a grimace.

 “Ok, wind north-northeast. Speed two fifty. Keep us steady, Barnes.”

“Confi-“

Bucky was cut off as they lurched violently to the side again.

Steve felt his ribs bruise as he was thrown into the side of the seat. He could hear Monty swearing.

And then they righted themselves.

Monty glanced back.  “You lads ok back there?”

He heard Jim cough out a laugh. “Monty, I swear to God.”

“Hey, if you want to try taking off in a tornado, you’re welcome to- Christ-“

They dropped again, throwing Steve forward in his seat, and with absolutely no aeronautical training he knew that it was bad.

He got a flash of jagged mountain out of the viewscreen and then they nosedived.

Dropping, falling sideways, spinning.

He was wrenched half out of his seat, neck twisted off to the side. He couldn’t lift his head against the force, could barely move at all.

He couldn’t see Bucky.

Could barely see anything. Just grey rock out of the window.

Red was beginning to flicker at the bottom edge of his vision. Blurring out everything.

He couldn’t feel his body anymore nothing but pressure and the red and the grey rock filling up everything getting closer.

“Shit! Pull up! Pull up!”

He was slammed back into his seat. He could see Jim again, eyes screwed up closed.

Still the grey in the window.

Too close.

The whole ship shuddered, scraped against the mountain.

And for just a moment, Steve had the vague, emotionless thought that this was it.

This must be how he died.

There was a strange screeching, shrieking sound.

The familiar stomach lurch of aeroplanes take-offs. Times a hundred.

Times a thousand.

So hard it hurt.

Bruised his back and his head against the seat.

He was dizzy, couldn’t catch his breath.

Training.

Centrifuges.

He was supposed to be counting his breaths.

Something to do with his legs.

But he couldn’t keep track.

Couldn’t keep up.

Jim was muttering something to himself, eyes closed, head thrown back. Fuzzy and blurred around the edges.

He was heavy and floating at the same time.

Pins and needles over his skin.

Was he breathing?

He oughta be breathing, he was pretty sure.

But it couldn’t matter too much.

Not when everything was so dark.

***

“Stevie? Stevie!”

He flickered vaguely back into awareness.

Mainly of the crushing ache in his skull. Like a rubber band pulled too tight, but…. inside him…

“Christ, Stevie!”

“Mmmm?”

“Shit.”

Steve managed to lift his head, ignoring the weird twisty feeling and the roiling nausea in his gut. Cos someone was shoutin and he was pretty sure it was important.

As he moved, his vision went dark again, like a black veil coming down, and for a second, he was absolutely certain that he was going to pass out again.

But then his vision cleared, even if his headache didn’t.

And he remembered where he was.

Everyone looked to be in one piece. Jim was out of his seat, doubled over and puking. Monty was ashy pale.

Outside the view screen was the deep black of space.

Bucky was leaning backwards out of his seat, fumbling with his belts. He stopped, starin at him. “Stevie?”

“’M alrigh’.”

“Yeah, you sure look it.”

Bucky finally managed to get his belt undone, he was across the room in a second. His hand was running across Steve’s limbs.

“Everyone alright?”

Steve managed to get his tongue to work just as Bucky unfastened his straps. Would’ve slithered straight to the floor, if Bucky hadn’t had a grip on him.

Jim flashed a thumbs up from where he’d sunk to the floor with his head in his hands.

Monty was nodding. “The others are radioing in, they’re ok. Taking Jacques to the med suite.” He got unsteadily to his feet. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and quietly have a heart attack.”

Steve lost track of him about then, lost track of everything, but he guessed he’d left.

“Come on.” Bucky was tugging at his wrist. “Let’s get you checked over.”

Steve went easily, still too dizzy to argue. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jim sliding to the floor, and halted so suddenly that Bucky swore in surprise.  

“Jim? Y’alrigh’?”

Jim gave another thumbs up. “Imma just lay down for a minute. I’m… Christ,” he met Steve’s eye, “I’m gonna kill that limey.”

***

On the walk down to the med bay, Steve began to feel a little less like his brain was dripping out through his ears. When they got to the bay door, he pulled away from Bucky’s steadying grip.

Bucky seemed more than a little reluctant to let go, but no way in Hell was Steve being carried into medical. He was still the goddamn captain.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Steve was greeted by the sight of Gabe and Dugan huddled behind glass, watching as the scanner worked its blue light over Jacques. It was still, and quiet, as they leaned into each other, in silent solidarity.

Then all Hell broke loose.

Dugan span round, face instantly stormy. “The Hell were you doin?”

He crossed the room in a heartbeat, all six foot of him, coiled and angry.

Steve felt something open up inside him, old training, old instinct. He had to work very hard not to move.

“Were you gonna just let Frenchie die, huh? That what they taught ya in the goddamn marines!”

Dugan raised his hand, not to hit him, Steve was sure, just to gesticulate, but Bucky grabbed his wrist all the same. Dugan wrenched away from him.

“Whatchou gonna do, Pinocchio? Ya can’t hurt me!”

“Section six point-“

“Shuttup!”

“Hey!” Steve was moving before he knew what he was gonna do, before his higher brain had realised what was happening.

Before it realised that this could end very, very badly.

“Whoa!”

He stopped.

They all stopped, turned towards Jim and Monty in the doorway.

Jim had his eyebrows raised. “Me and the limey take a five minute breather and you all lose your minds or somethin?”

He was going for his usual humour, standard Jim diversionary tactic, but he missed by a mile.

Monty didn’t say anything at all. His face was flushed and damp, like he’d gone and splashed water over himself.

He was looking at the floor.

Dugan instantly rounded on them. “We were talkin about the fact Tinman here’s apparently worth more than the rest of us combined.”

Jim’s fake smile dropped. “Well, then you’d better take that up with me. Since I made the decision.”

Dugan’s face twisted. “Sure.”

“Synthetics fall under my jurisdiction.” Steve almost took a step back as Jim’s arm was flung wildly in his general direction. “He ain’t got nothin to do with it.”

Dugan’s lip twitched. “Knew what we were arguin about though, didn’t ya?”

“I followed procedure.” Jim was nearly a half foot shorter than Dugan. It didn’t stop him squaring up. “You got something to say to me?”

There was a tense moment of stand off, and then Dugan stepped back. “Nah.”

Jim held his gaze for a second, then turned. “Good.”

“Just, you know, ‘s good to know that you can get out of any shit ‘s long as you’re Cap’s personal fleshlight.”

Steve’s world flashed red then white. He couldn’t hear anything but the blood whooshing in his ear. The crunch of cartilage under his fist.

His head snapped back, the bloom of pain firing up from his lip.

“Least I aint gotta get my dick wet with someone who can’t say no!”

Dugan sounded muffled, like his nose was broken, and all Steve could think was ‘good’.

He threw himself forward, but there was a grip around his waist, across his arms.

He was yellin, snarlin. He knew there was blood across his teeth. “Lemme go!”

“No.”

“Leggo!”

“No.”

He couldn’t break free. Could feel the muscles tearing apart in his shoulder.

“Fuckin lemme go!”

He felt a breath against the back of his neck. “Don’t need anyone avengin my honour, Stevie.”

And he was panting, breathing hard before his vision managed to clear.

Monty was in front of him, fist clenched into the front of Dugan’s shirt. “Are you done? Are you done!”

There was movement over to his side. Jim moving to get to his feet, hand clasped against his cheek. Monty snapped towards him in an instant, free hand pointing at him. “Jimmy, I swear to God…”

He felt a hand tap against his stomach where he’d gone limp. “You back with me, Stevie?”

“Yeah.”

The arms disappeared from around him, and as he glanced behind him, he realised with a jolt of shame that it’d taken the combined efforts of Bucky and Gabe to pull him back.

Dugan swiped a smear of blood from his nose across his cheek.

Monty still had his arms outstretched between Jim and Dugan, but he was stepping back as the tension flowed out of the room.

“Now, you all got a fair hit in. Queensbury rules. It’s over,” he said softly.

When no one made a move to contradict him, Monty nodded like that was all settled.

He turned to Bucky. “Come on, big fella, I need your help with something.”

Steve nearly made a grab for Bucky’s arm, overwhelmed by the need to stop any fucking person from taking him out of his sight. But a look at Bucky’s face stopped him.

This was about Jacques now. This argument was a distraction. Both Bucky and Monty knew that.

So he let them go, watching as they disappeared up the corridor.

He forced himself to breathe, and looked at the others.

His crew, his responsibility.

“I’m sorry, Gabe. What have you got to tell us?”

Gabe skirted round him, up to the glass. “It’s some kind of parasitic lifeform.”

Steve stepped up to get a proper look.

The creature was spiderlike, long limbs clutching at the back of his dark hair, its body covering over his face. Something like a tail squeezing around his throat.

He glanced across at Gabe. At the way he was chewing at his lip.

“Gabe,” Steve prompted.

“He’s alive,” Gabe said, without shifting his gaze. “It must be feeding him oxygen. I don’t…” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“Alright,” Steve dropped a hand onto his shoulder. He’d known the two were close, but now was the first time he wondered just how close. “I want you to keep working on this, alright? As much research as you can.”

Gabe looked at him like he was insane. “I’m not a doctor. I’m not even… I can’t.”

“I mean, our medical officer is out of commission, so...” Jim shrugged at the dirty look Dugan shot him. “I’m just saying.”

Steve squeezed Gabe’s shoulder, trying to pass on a confidence that he didn’t feel at all. “You’re the best man for the job. You’re educated in this.”

If anything, Gabe’s expression became more incredulous. “I did one year of terrestrial zoology, flunked it and then dropped out.”

Steve shrugged. “Which makes you the most qualified man here.”

Gabe looked back at Jacques and nodded. “If that’s true then he’s fucked. You know that, right?”

No one contradicted him.

***

Bucky was sat on his bed when Steve returned to his quarters, poking around in his left elbow with a complicated looking tool.

He glanced up, a snatched thing. He didn’t smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d…” He trailed off. “I don’t have my own quarters.”

“You know I don’t mind.” Steve slipped off his jacket. “I told everyone to take the night. We gotta…” He shrugged and started stripping altogether. “ _I_ gotta sleep.”  

Bucky just hummed.

“Gabe’s lookin into how to help Jacques. I told Jim and Tim to start looking at the engines tomorrow, check our take off didn’t fuck us up too bad.”

He kicked his shoes off and his right ankle gave an unpleasant protest, too long in cryo, then running around all day. The old injury was flaring up.

He didn’t let it show.

“Monty’s gonna have another look at that transmission, see if he can decode it. If it’s an SOS, it might have more information about the creature.”

“Hmmm… What are we gonna do?”

Steve knew he wasn’t just talking about tonight.

“I don’t know.”

He slipped off his pants, until he was just in his boxers.

That was one positive about the ship’s engines being so fucking inefficient, pretty much the whole ship was like a sauna.

He looked back towards Bucky, who was ostensibly still working on his arm, but focussing on something in the middle distance.

“Buck? What Tim-“

“Can you give me a hand?” He glanced up with a smile that said he’d caught the joke just after he’d said it.

“Course.” Steve let him have the diversion, went to sit next to him. He took the tool and peered into the opening at the base of his elbow. “I… err… I’m not really an engineer.”

“I’ll talk you through it.”

He lifted his arm, to display a confusing array of wires and tubes. Steve felt his heart rate pick up. “Maybe Jim might-“

“I want you to do it.” Bucky cut him off. “I’ve sealed everything off so there aren’t any live wires, but I can’t hold the mesh in place, and reseal it with one hand.”

He reached across to pull what looked like a very thin wire mesh across the end of his elbow and held it in place. He nodded towards Steve’s hand. “It’s that button. On the side.”

Steve pressed it experimentally. The end of the tool started to spark and let out a chemical smell.

“Hey,” Bucky was watching him, “you can’t hurt me, pal.” He shrugged as much as he could without moving his arm. “No brain. No nervous system.”

Steve tightened his jaw, leaned in to work out where he needed to solder. “You have a brain.”

Bucky didn’t answer. There was no sound but the buzz of the tool, and the metal sizzling.

Steve sat back. “That good?”

Bucky nodded and looked away.

There was still coolant staining up the side of his arm. Steve grabbed an alcohol wipe from his drawer.

“Let me.” He forestalled Bucky’s refusal.

Bucky still didn’t answer.

“We should just go.” Steve methodically wiped the coolant away. “When we get back, let’s just go.”

He heard Bucky’s sigh. “Where?”

“One of the off-world colonies?” He sat back. “Anywhere. Doesn’t matter.”

“You really think Weyland are gonna let you walk away with twenty thousand dollars’ worth of equipment?”

It took Steve a second to work out he was talking about himself. “Bucky-“

“It’s over, Stevie. Everyone knows. Everyone always fuckin knew, and what a waste of all this time.”

Steve felt his heart twist. “Buck-“

“Dugan ain’t gonna let this go, you gotta know that. And even if he does, this whole thing’s a shitstorm. There’ll be an inquiry. It’ll come out.”

Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist. “It’ll be alright.”

Bucky gave him a Look. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I told you what’d happen.”

He let his head drop onto Bucky’s shoulder. “I won’t let it.”

Bucky sighed again. “Who d’ya think you are, Stevie?”

Steve felt anger bubble up. At himself. At the universe.

At Bucky for giving up without a goddamn fight.

He tightened his arm. “I’m a lieutenant of the US marines.”

Bucky lifted his head. Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look more defeated.

“No. You’re not. I’m sorry, Stevie, but you’re not.” He pressed Steve’s hand to his lips, the lightest of kisses. “You’re a Grade One captain of a mining freighter, who was forcibly discharged from the military under the Mental Health directive. And no one is goin to give a shit what you think about anything, darlin.”

“You’re wrong.”

Steve said it automatically, not giving himself time to think about it. Because he couldn’t accept it.

Couldn’t accept that they could be as powerless as they were.

He screwed his eyes closed, as Bucky leaned in to kiss his temple. “You know I’m not, sweetheart.”

He turned his face, felt the cool of Bucky’s breath across his cheek, pressed them together. “We can run.”

“No.” Bucky’s lips were chasing across his skin, in between the words. “Right now, it’ll be a civil suit for damage of company property. If we run, then it’s theft. You’ll end up in the penal colonies, and you’ll die there.” He felt the ghost of Bucky’s laugh, sad and hollow. “Cos you can’t keep your head down for shit.”

Steve twisted them so their foreheads were touching. “What about you?”

He opened his eyes, looking into Bucky’s, and all he saw was defeat.

Bucky looked away.

Steve cupped his jaw. “Then we have to run.”

“No. It’s done either way.”

Steve wanted to answer, but Bucky kissed him, bit his lip so hard it hurt.

Bucky pulled back, searched his face. “Can I have you tonight?”

Bucky was so beautiful, he looked like a china doll.

And so, so sad, that Steve could never have turned him down.

He kissed him and leaned him back down onto the bed. Pressing down into the hard planes of him. He slipped his hand beneath the back of his head.

“Like this?”

“Mmm… You first.”

“Ok.” Steve kissed him again, and sat back to tug Bucky’s clothes off. Steve would’ve happily carried on as they were, but he knew that Bucky hated getting clothes dirty.

Plus, Steve wasn’t exactly opposed to the view.

All of Bucky’s pale skin on display. The only person alive who Bucky chose to give this to.

Everything about him was edges. Unyielding under his hands.   

Steve leaned forward to litter kisses across his chest, smiling as Bucky arched his back slightly to give him more access.

He knew it didn’t do much for Bucky, but Bucky knew exactly what he liked, and Steve couldn’t possibly love him any more.

“Come on, Stevie.”

Bucky’s hands were on his hips, guiding him to where he wanted him.

Steve went willingly. “You were always a demandin lay.”

“Uh huh. Lucky too. Or you’da died of old age before you ever blew your load.”

Steve ground down against his stomach and the sudden friction was almost unbearable. He gasped. “You sure got a mouth on ya, Buck.” 

“Yeah, well, play your cards right, pal.”

Steve laughed, quickly turning into a strung out moan, as Bucky hitched up his hips so Steve’s cock slipped between his thighs.

“Good?”

Steve nodded cos he couldn’t quite get his mouth to work. Bucky always matched him perfectly, like a fucking metronome.

Like he had a direct line straight to Steve’s brain.

To his dick.

“Ah. Ah, Buck!”

“Come on, baby.” Bucky’s hands were scraping perfectly against his back. He was whispering against his ear. “Stevie.”

Steve tipped himself over the edge, gasping into the juncture of Bucky’s neck, grinding out the last of his orgasm, until he collapsed over Bucky’s chest.

He was savouring the smell of him. Still vaguely chemical from decon, but something underneath it, something that reminded Steve vaguely of overheating electrics, and warm metal.

Something that was absolutely _Bucky_.

Steve kept kissing and licking at his throat, until he felt Bucky laughing. “Alright, lay off, ya fuckin vampire.”

He kissed him once more and then leaned up, cupped a hand beneath Bucky’s neck, rubbing over his skin. “Do you still want to?”

Bucky bit his lip and nodded.

Steve let his hand slip up, just into his hair. Searching with gentle fingers until he found the release catch. He carefully unlatched it and skirted over the little soldered bumps until he found the right circuit. “That right?”

“Yeah. Kiss me?”

“OK. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Steve pressed down ever so slightly, until he felt the click, and surged down to meet Bucky’s lips. Bucky was kissing him desperately.

He pressed again and felt the second click, felt Bucky exhale.

Felt him tense, become even more solid.

Steve waited a beat and let go. Kept kissing Bucky until he went lax beneath him, and then sat back. Took in the perfect stillness of his expression.

He couldn’t begin to understand it. Knew it had something to do with overloading Bucky’s sensory system.

Bucky had described it as being able to feel everything at once.

Steve didn’t know whether that sounded good or not, but if Bucky liked it.

And it was that that had finally convinced him, way back at the start. When he’d asked Bucky how he’d found out about it, and Bucky had only smirked in return, light-hearted and full of trouble.

Steve had known then.

It didn’t matter what Weyland would say. He hadn’t corrupted Bucky’s programming. There was nothing external there.

It was Bucky.

Just Bucky, as he was.

Steve was pretty much gone from that moment on. It was a forgone conclusion.

He smiled at the memory, even if it was tinged now by fear, by resentment, and laid down across Bucky’s chest.

Waiting for him to twitch back into life and tell Steve that he loved him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I didn't intend to write sex. Bucky's just very demanding. 
> 
> Any spelling or grammar mistakes are the direct result of my last two nine hour shifts. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this took, and for how short this is. Think of this as half a chapter (the rest of which will hopefully be up towards the end of this week), I just wanted to post something to prove that I haven't abandoned this (or anything else!)

Time elapsed – 11:48:32

 

Steve’s dreams were confused, full of creatures in shadowed corridors and eerie, hollow screeches. But inevitably, they fell into the familiar pattern.

Blood and fire and death.

Hands grabbing at him.

He came awake all of a sudden, aware that he was knelt upright when he definitely shouldn’t be. And then the room condensed around him. Bucky’s ever so calm expression. His arm just pressing upwards slightly against Steve’s chest.

And Steve’s own hands wrapped tightly around his throat.

“You with me now?”

There wasn’t an ounce of strain in Bucky’s voice, but Steve recoiled anyway, the ache in his wrists telling him just how tight he’d been squeezing.

He dropped back onto the bed. “Shit.”

Bucky sat up. “It’s alright.”

“No.” Steve dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “No, it’s not alright. I shouldn’t-“

Bucky’s hand pressed into his shoulder. “You didn’t hurt me. You can’t.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to snap that that wasn’t the point. That the very thought of raising a hand to Bucky, in their own goddamn bed, made him feel sick. Made him feel like scum.

But then he remembered it was pointless, Bucky didn’t get it.

The world was black and white to him. No harm, no foul.

It didn’t have the same connotations to him.

So Steve let it go. Rubbed a hand over his face, and made a deliberate effort to let it go.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Five hours, forty-two minutes.” Steve caught the pause, as Bucky forcibly stopped himself from adding on the seconds. The way he did when he was stressed. “Jim called in about an hour ago, they found a problem with the cooling sys-“

Steve was already on his feet, searching for the clothes he’d discarded the night before. “What did he say? Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You needed to sleep.” There was a definite note of disapproval in Bucky’s tone. “You told _them_ to sleep. That’s what I told them too.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

He just caught the turn of Bucky’s mouth, as he turned away, and knew he’d be apologising for that later.

The thought crossed his mind that he should just get it over with now, but hell was Bucky good at reading him. He’d know it was insincere, just to end the fight.

And it would almost definitely have the opposite effect.

Before he could say anything to make it worse, the radio pinged next to him. He leaned over, deliberately putting his back to Bucky.

“Jim? Yeah, I’m awake n-“

“Cap?”

“Gabe?” Steve frowned. His voice sounded wavery. “Y’alright?”

“I think you should get down here.”

The line clicked off.

Steve just stared at it for a second. “Buck?”

“I heard it, darlin.”

Bucky was up, scooping up the clothes Steve had flung away the night before.

“You think-?”

“Don’t think. Wait til we get down there.”

Steve frowned, as he turned to find his own clothes.

That was all well and good for Bucky, but he couldn’t just turn his brain off whenever he wanted to. Christ, if he could, that’d have made everything a hell of a lot easier. He’d have been a better captain. Wouldn’t have had to leave the marines.

There was a hiss at the back of his head that sounded like his father, correcting that to ‘been kicked out of’, and wasn’t that just-

He turned back around and that train of thought just trailed away.

Bucky had a t-shirt on, one of Steve’s by the look of it, but he was struggling to manoeuvre himself into his pants one handed.

Steve felt something flicker up in his battered heart. “Here.”

He took the pants out of Bucky’s hand, brushed across his wrist as he did, and held them open for him to step into.

They didn’t speak.

Steve thought they were about ready to leave, but as soon as he had them fastened, Bucky sank down heavily on the bed. There was something about the very stiff way he was holding himself, that suddenly made Steve wonder whether it really was a lack of dexterity making Bucky struggle.

“Hey,” Steve dropped into a crouch, took Bucky’s hand, “whatever happens, it’s not your fault.”

“It is though, isn’t it?”

Bucky finally met his eyes, and Steve caught the flicker of hesitation as Bucky consciously filtered through which expression to settle on. It wasn’t often he felt he had to school himself in front of Steve.

It made that flutter in Steve’s heart start up again.

“I knew,” Bucky carried on, “I knew somethin was wrong. I shoulda brought em back.”

“How could you have? Everyone on that team outranked you.”

Bucky smiled. A conscious choice again. “Don’t I know it.”

For a second, even though Steve knew it couldn’t possibly be true, Bucky looked exhausted.

Steve leant down to kiss the back of his hand, rubbed over the dampness with his thumb. “Did you sleep at all?”

He knew that wasn’t exactly accurate, but he was never gonna say ‘stand by’ or ‘hibernate’ like all Bucky was was a computer.

Bucky looked away and that was answer in itself. “There was something wrong.”

Steve could imagine him, turning everything over and over, looking for anomalies. “If there was anything you could’ve done, you’da done it.”

Bucky nodded, and met his eye again. His smile was more real this time.

It was still sad.

“Sorry. That was a lie. That wasn’t what I was thinking on.”

Steve kept rubbing over his thumb. “What was it?”

Bucky was chewing at his lip. “I know that’s what I should’ve been thinking about. Guess I ought to have been. Guess it proves I’m not-“

Bucky cut himself off, but Steve would put down money that the next word was going to be ‘human’.

He waited.

“I was thinkin,” Bucky took a breath he didn’t need, “’bout what we were talkin about. If Jacques dies, then it’ll go to tribunal, and everythin’ll come out. It’ll… They’ll say I’m damaged. Corrupted files.” Bucky caught Steve’s hand, and squeezed. “They’ll say its your fault, and that I’m dangerous.”

“Buck…”

Steve tried to pull away. Bucky held tight.

“They won’t just destroy-“ He cut himself off again. Gave a tight smile. “Good for parts, you know. They’ll… They’ll wipe me out, Stevie. Strip me out, and put somebody else in. And…” He was shaking his head. “And I know I oughta want Jacques to live just because. I know it didn’t oughta be about…” His grip became painful. “But Jesus, Stevie… Jesus Christ.”

Steve didn’t have anything to say, as he pulled Bucky into a hug.

He wasn’t goin to say how he wasn’t gonna let any of it happen. He’d seen how well that’d gone over last night.

But Steve still knew it was true.

He’d face down God himself, and all his archangels, if he had to. He’d march into hell.

But he hoped to God he wouldn’t have to.

_Miserere mei, deus_

He held Bucky tight.

_Kyrie eleison_

***

Steve kept hold of Bucky’s hand all the way down to the med bay. It felt odd, and right, to be so open about everything.

And if Steve had his way, he’d never let go of Bucky’s hand again.

Bucky evidently didn’t feel the significance, as he shrugged out of his grasp as they reached the doors.

Steve tried not to dwell on the loss, or on the lead block that’d settled into his gut, as they went inside.

“Fuck.”

He heard Bucky at the side of him, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on what he was seeing for a second.

Jacques.

Sat up.

Gabe was perched next to him on the examination table, and Jacques was giving him a wan attempt at a smile in return.

Steve made several attempts at speech before he managed to stutter out “Report?”

He wasn’t answered. Unsurprisingly, since Bucky half cut him off with a distinctly human whoop, and practically leapt across the room to pull Jacques into a hug.

“What...?” Steve’s mouth was still gaping stupidly. Gabe slid off the table and crossed to his side. “What happened?”

Jacques was pushing Bucky away, they were speaking softly, in rapid French that Steve could only half follow.

“C’est bon, mon pote. Ne t’inquiète pas pour moi.”

_Everything’s fine._

“I’ll be honest with ya, man,” Gabe laughed, “I fell asleep. Still lookin for something, ya know. Anyway, I wake and Jacques’s tappin on the glass.”

“How… how is that possible?”

Bucky had hold of Jacques hand, dipping his head and dropping his voice. “Je n’ai pas pu rentrer. J’ai essayé. La coque de-“

Jacques cut him off, but Steve had enough.

_I couldn’t get back in._

Bucky was still apologising.

Gabe hummed again. “Hell, if I know.”

Steve finally gave Gabe his full attention. “Well, where is it?”

Gabe gestured to behind the table. “Over there.”

“Over..?” Steve frowned, and got a nod back from Gabe.

He started to edge round the table, hand twitching towards his belt. Despite everything, the calmness of everyone in the room, Steve couldn’t shake the naked feeling of not carrying a pulse gun.

He caught sight of it, curled up on its back like grotesque dead spider. All spindly and pale.

It made Steve want to throw up.

“What happened?” He glanced around and realised they were all staring at the thing.

Gabe shrugged. “People don’t agree with it? That’d be my guess.”

Jacques shivered. “Don’t. You’ll make me puke.”

Steve touched his shoulder. “You alright?”

Jacques raised an eyebrow.

Steve smiled. “Stupid question, I guess.”

“What are we gonna do with it?” Gabe nodded over to it.

“We should put it in storage.” Jacques looked less than thrilled about the idea of it, but he was nodding like he was trying to convince himself. “So that it can be studied when we return.”

“No.”

Everyone turned to look at Bucky, crouched down by the creature, and looking simultaneously fascinated and revolted.

He looked up, and his face was very, very blank. “Put it out of the airlock.”

“It’s a non-terrestrial lifeform. We can’t just-“

“Steve.” Bucky cut Gabe off, and his eyes were wide now. “Either put it out the airlock. Or burn the fucker up.”

Steve felt Jacques’s hand on his arm, looked down to see the earnestness of his expression. Behind it something else.

Something a little like dread.

“Do as he says, captain.” Jacques’s fingers felt like claws. “Do as he says.”

Steve caught the look that Jacques shot Bucky, like he was a prophet of doom. And Christ, did Bucky look like it, crouched on the floor in front of the dead thing.

Grey skinned and wide eyed.  

He looked like one of the Fair Folk in the old stories from Steve’s childhood. Come with some dire news.

“Alright,” Steve said.

He didn’t take his eyes from Bucky, but in an instant, the mirage was gone, and it was Bucky again.

His Bucky.

And he was scared, looking to Steve to fix all of this.

“Alright,” he said again. “We put it outside.”

As if he needed any encouragement to get the bastard thing off _his_ ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the delay. If it's any consolation, I haven't got any of my 'proper' writing done either. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with it (and me!)
> 
> Oh, and if anyone wants to correct my French, they'd be very welcome. It's been a very, very long time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the mini chapter. Again, sorry for the delay.

On the walk over to the control room, Steve felt calmer than he had in months. Because Jacques was alright. He was ok, and all of a sudden, all the awful scenarios seemed to vanish from his mind. Jacques would be alright. They’d talk Dugan round. After all, the others had been keeping their secret all this time. Bucky would be safe.

They’d all be safe.

When they got to the control room, it seemed like his conclusions were coming good. The others had all gathered there as well, and they were met with cries of surprise.

Dugan practically lifted Jacques off the ground in his embrace. Steve was pretty sure they all took themselves by surprise with the force of their laughter.

It took Steve several minutes to be able to get them all quietened down enough to sit around the table and share all their findings.

“What’d you do with it?” Dugan was leaning back, hand stretched across the back of Jacques’s chair.

It made Steve think about what Jim’d said about him. He was right, everything about Dugan was open, his affection and his anger.

And both were hard earned.

Steve supposed he liked him a lot more, once he started thinking about it like that.

“Shot the fucker out into space.” Bucky was mirroring Dugan, fingers tapping against Steve’s spine in a comforting pattern, though Steve wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or not.

If he was even aware of it.

“Good.” Jim was gulping down huge quantities of coffee, in a way that Steve suspected meant he had not followed his orders, or taken Bucky’s advice, and actually slept. “I ain’t interested in being no Typhoid Mary.”

The rest of them nodded in agreement, all except for Jacques who was huddled up in a mylar blanket, pulled up to his throat. He looked pale.

Steve frowned. “You wanna take a break, Jacques?”

“Non.” Jacques shuffled in his seat, causing Dugan to shift closer unconsciously. “I have slept enough.”

Bucky’s tapping changed tempo. Amping up for a few beats before returning to it’s comforting pace.

Steve pressed back into him. “Alright. What’ve you found?”

“We’re losin coolant, fuckin fast too.” Jim said, in between slugs of coffee. “Scraped the shit outta the external system by crashin into a fuckin mountain.”

That was said with a very deliberate glance over at Monty, who scowled in return. “Yes, and you’re very welcome.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Yeah thanks, buddy. You got us outta a goddamn rainstorm, so we could burn up in space. Great job there.”

“Hey,” Bucky cut in, “you wanna share with the class? Or you just gonna get pissy with each other?”

“Ace, over here, has managed to take out most of our engine systems.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to pass the controls into your capable hands next time we have to take off into a hurricane.”

“Next time?” Jim laughed. It was cruel. “Think I’m ever liftin off with you again?”

“Enough.” And Steve had had enough. He looked between them, feeling a thrill of pride as they both softened, deferred. It’d been a long time since he’s deserved a look like that. “This isn’t helpin. Now tell me calmly, what’s the problem? Calmly.” He added, as he saw Jim start to ramp up again.

Jim took a deep breath.  “We’re spewing coolant into space.”

“Yeah, we got that.” Bucky’s hand stilled. “You got anything else for us, MacGyver?”

Jim frowned. “Yeah, we’re also losing fuel somewhere along the line. I ain’t found it yet. But I’m guessin you fellas aren’t dumb enough to need it explainin that fuel pooling somewhere inside an engine, that’s getting increasingly hot, isn’t a good thing?”

“Ok.” Steve had to try very hard to keep the dismay out of his voice. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m gonna get on fixin the line, stop us leaving a trail behind us. Jim’ll find the fuel leak.” Dugan shrugged. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

“But even if we don’t lose any more,” Jim leaned forward on his forearms, “there still ain’t enough in the system to keep the engines from overheating.”

“And you can’t just turn the engines off?” Monty had his arms folded.

Jim raised his eyebrows. “And float around in space for the next two years, starvin to death? Yeah, great idea.”

“We have the cryo pods.” Jacques’s voice sounded thick. He had ducked his face into the blanket.

Steve caught the look of apprehension on more than one face in the room.

“No. We ain’t goin into stasis and hopin that this ship happens to drift into a shipping lane. That’s just stupid.”

“Damn right,” Jim said under his breath.

Gabe folded his arms, leaned back. “So what we gonna do?”

Jim opened his mouth, then closed it again. He turned to Dugan. “What about rerouting from the EES?”

Dugan looked surprised for a second. “I guess…”

Steve caught the hesitation, looked between them. “What’s the EES?”

“It’s the escape pods,” Bucky said quietly in his ear, starting up his tapping again.

“I mean, the other option is wait til the engines burn up and abandon ship.” Jim shrugged. “We’d lose the cargo then.”

“And our pay,” Dugan frowned.

“Not to mention, there’d be an inquiry.” Gabe was looking pointedly at Steve. “That’d be you and me out of a job. Jimmy too, if they decide to discipline all the officers.”

Steve tightened his jaw. That was all true. And if they’d managed to weather the crisis of Jacques’s injury, he was damn sure he wasn’t gonna be separated from Bucky by anything else.

Jim must’ve seen something in his face, because he was nodding. “If we’ve decided we aren’t lettin the ship go, then we aren’t gonna need both escape pods anyway.”

Steve looked around the faces of the room. All apart from Monty and Jacques looked convinced. Monty was refusing to look up, staring resolutely at where he was drawing circles onto the table with his thumb. It occurred to Steve that Monty’d barely said anythin at all.

And Jacques…

Jacques didn’t look like he was capable of caring either way. If anything, he looked like he was trying wholeheartedly not to puke.

He shouldn’t have kept this debate going for so long. Jacques needed to rest, and it was clear he wasn’t willing to miss out on any discussion.

They all needed to get moving.

Steve nodded at Jim. “Do it.”

Bucky’s fingers faltered in their rhythm briefly, then returned to their previous pace.

Steve pulled away, started to stand. “Well, if that’s everything…”

Jim and Dugan were already moving. “On it, Cap.”

Bucky followed him to his feet, and Gabe shifted around the table to take Dugan’s empty seat next to Jacques.

Steve felt another swell of pride. It’d been a long time since he’d felt like a proper captain. Even longer since he’d felt like he had a handle on what was happening.

Everything that’d happened since he left the marines, before that even, had felt a whirlwind he was just barely clinging onto. A relentless march forward that he had no control over.

But he’d led men to war. He could finish a goddamn mining contract.

“May I have a word?” Monty had sidled to his side, looked no happier now than he had during the discussion.

Steve lead him a little way away from the table, ignoring the way Bucky hovered within listening distance the same way he was sure Monty was.

“I looked into that transmission.” Monty’s eyes were still on the floor. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Gabe had his hand against Jacques’s back, clearly concerned about him, talking into his ear in a low voice. Jacques looked up at him with a grimace.

“Skip?”

“Yes.” He looked back to Monty, made a deliberate effort to focus on what he’d said. “What..? What do you mean? You couldn’t decode it?”

“No.” Monty took a hold of his elbow carefully. “There wasn’t anything to decode.”

Bucky was no longer even pretending not to listen, stepping up close.

“Listen,” Monty pulled them both further away again, “language has its own set of patterns, repeated words, syntax, rules. The computer can look for them. It didn’t find anything. It’s gibberish. Completely random.”

Bucky frowned. “Well, if it’s an alien language...”

Monty shook his head. “Not unless everything we know about linguistic theory is wrong.”

“So, it’s a made up language?” Steve frowned as his attention was once again caught by the two over by the table. Jacques was rubbing at his temple. “Jacques, go to bed. We’ll radio if we need you.” He nodded at Gabe. “Go with him.”

Satisfied that they were doing as he’d asked, he looked back to Monty. “Why would an alien ship send out a fake message?”

Monty shrugged. “Perhaps it was a trap?”

“No.” Bucky was carefully blank again.

“No?” Steve let his hand slip to Bucky’s waist. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t…” Bucky trailed off. Met Steve’s eyes. His brows were drawn together, something open and empty in his eyes. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Monty was hovering by his other elbow. “What doesn’t?”

Bucky opened his mouth to answer, but whatever didn’t make sense was cut off by a choked off grunt from the other side of the room.

Steve caught the motion out of the corner of his eyes, a body falling, and he was moving before he truly registered it. Muscle memory from the field, probably. In any case, he was practically at Jacques side before he realised what must have happened.

Jacques had fainted. He was still being half held up by Gabe, who was staring in surprise.

“Get him down,” Steve said sharply, running over his first aid training from years ago. He gently manoeuvred all three of the them onto the floor. “On his side.”

They didn’t get much further.

Jacques let out a high-pitched gasp, more like an intake of breath than anything, and then he began to jerk, spine contorting unnaturally backwards. Steve could only make out a sliver of white beneath his eyelids.

“It’s a seizure.”

Steve felt a calm settle over him. He’d seen seizures. He knew what this was. Knew what to do.

Gabe was trying to restrain Jacques. Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “Not too hard. Just stop him hurtin himself.”

Bucky had dropped to his knees, slipping a hand beneath the back of Jacques’s head.

“That’s it.”

Monty had backed up against the table.

“What’s goin to happen,” Steve kept his voice very steady, “is he’s goin to shake for a couple of minutes, and then he’s gonna wake up. And he’s gonna be real confused, so we’ve all just got be steady for him, alright?” Monty’s eyes were still on Jacques.

“Monty?” He met Steve’s eyes. “Are you goin to be steady for him?”

Monty nodded, and that was good enough for Steve. He turned his attention back to Jacques.

“There. You see? He’s settling down.”

Steve let the tremors stop, and then started straightening out his limbs. Jacques eyes were open, mouth opening and closing.

Steve leaned over him. “What’s that, buddy?”

“C’est encore ici.”

“Pardon?”

Jacques let out a shriek and reared up.

He came close to headbutting Steve in the face, and Steve automatically grabbed his shoulders. Trying to press him back into the floor.

All thoughts of not hurting him fled as he kept on thrashing, contorting upwards, still making that godawful screaming.

Steve was leaning down with practically all his weight. He cast around until he met Bucky’s eyes. “Help me!”

Bucky seemed to lurch forward to lend his strength. Steve couldn’t tell whose hands were whose, but he could hear the others shouting, feel the warmth behind him that meant someone was holding Jacques legs.

Bucky’s face was close to his, lips pulled tight.

Jacques was flailing, screaming. Arching up so much that Steve thought his spine would snap.

Steve felt a sudden warmth against his chest. Heard Gabe recoil with a disgust that didn’t really register except as a faint annoyance. Because now Jacques was able to kick him again, was trying to throw him off.

“Help me, goddamnit! Hel-“

There was another spray of warmth, this time across his face, down his throat.

Bucky jerked backwards.

But Steve didn’t have time to shout, before there were hands on him, dragging him back. Monty and Gabe, arms across his shoulders, across his chest. He was fighting them. Thrashing against their grip, because Jacques was sick, he needed help, he needed…

Steve saw the bulge of his chest. An awful burbling sound was coming out of Jacques throat. The sickening crunch of snapping bone, of ribs and muscle tearing back.

And then a haunting, eerie screech.

Slowly, it rose. The _thing_.

Like a cobra.

Coated in blood and viscera. Glistening.

It let out another noise, echoing off the metal walls, and heaved itself out of the gaping maw of Jacques chest.

Steve couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

It dropped itself heavily to the floor, and scuttled over to the vents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kicking off ;)
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with the flow/pace of this, but I decided to post in the end, instead of digging myself deeper into a cycle of editing and berating myself, and never actually getting onto the next bit. Anyway, feedback would be very welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Steve couldn’t draw in a breath. Monty’s arm was still across the base of his throat. He could hear Gabe’s breaths.

He finally dragged his eyes away from Jacques and up to look for Bucky. He was still sprawled back on the floor, where he’d thrown himself out of the path of the thing. He slowly pushed himself up on his hand.

There was blood spattered across the side of Bucky’s throat, across his face. As Steve watched, he brought his hand up to brush across his lip, looking down at the red smear.

Steve finally felt himself catch up, felt his brain click back online, and he remembered the warm, wet spray he’d felt.

He staggered to his feet, colliding heavily with Monty. Backed across the room, like he could back out of his own skin. He stumbled, fell against the wall. The front of his shirt was clinging to his skin.

He couldn’t breathe.

Everything was distorted. Fisheyed.

Bucky had stood up. Was saying something, but he couldn’t hear anything over the pulse of his own heart.

Monty and Gabe were staring at him. Frowning.

Steve felt something shrivel up inside him.

But he could feel the wet on his face, could feel his shirt wrapped against his flesh. He shivered.

Remembered to take one huge deep breath.

It made him dizzy.

Bucky was up close to him. Talking. But Steve was operating out of a whole different time zone now… One he knew very, very well.

Made a deliberate effort to concentrate. To drag himself back.

But there was blood on Bucky’s lip. On his cheek.

The ends of his hair were dark with it.

Steve made a noise that he felt more than heard. Cos it was on him. It was on him and he wanted to tear his skin off.

He shoved his way to the door.

He had to get out. Had to get out of the room.

He was stumbling into the walls, because he couldn’t breathe and nothing looked right, but he made it to his rooms, went instantly into the bathroom but he couldn’t look at himself and he couldn’t look down at his shirt because if he saw himself he’d claw his skin off and he was on the floor makin a moanin noise on every breath because he couldn’t fucking breathe and everything was too close and he could feel it and he could taste it and he could….

He became aware that he was forehead down on the tiles.

 “Steve?” Bucky was rattling the door. “Stevie? Stevie, open the door. Open the door, Stevie.”

He didn’t know how long Bucky had been there. Could hear the panic in him.

Steve couldn’t move.

He was still breathing too fast. In great sporadic gasps. Hard enough to see stars. To feel like he was going to throw up.

Bucky couldn’t see him like this. Steve knew it was irrational, Bucky had seen him in far worse states than this, but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t shake off the feeling that he oughta be the strong one. It oughta be him protecting Bucky.

He didn’t oughta be cowering on the floor like a…

The thumping on the door was becoming more desperate. Could Bucky break through the metal? Probably. But Steve didn’t think he would.

There was another voice outside the door. Bucky, whose voice Steve would always recognise, and someone else, having a hushed conversation.

Bucky sounded like he was arguing.

Steve hated the way he sounded when he was upset. He pushed his face harder into the floor.

“Steve? Skip?” Monty. “Can you open the door for me, please?”

He really, really didn’t want to. But that rational bit of his mind was beginning to make sense again, and realistically, he couldn’t stay here on the floor.

He also wasn’t likely to get himself sorted out on his own.

“Just you?” His voice sounded muffled and wavery.

There was a pause, in which Steve imagined the glance between Bucky and Monty.

“Yeah, just me, Skip.”

“Mother, open the door.”

Monty came in slowly. He didn’t say anything, but Steve heard the click of the lock back in place.

He felt pitifully grateful for that.  

He heard Monty’s steps clicking, and the rustle of fabric which told him Monty had settled himself down on the floor.

They sat in silence.

Before he knew it, he realised his breathing was slowing down all on its own. It was hard to keep up the pace, when he could hear Monty, and feel the steady calm of him.

“You know,” Monty began, “I was in the RAF.”

He paused, letting Steve know it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“No,” Steve’s voice cracked, and he tilted his head so he could see Monty’s face from beneath his arm, “no, I didn’t.”

Monty just nodded, like it was what he expected. “I used to fly troop transports, mostly. I could fly fighters, bombers. Whatever. But I was usually posted to troop transports, or airborne units.”

He settled again, stretched his legs out in front of him.

“Anyway, there was this one day, afternoon, I was flying out a unit of paras, over enemy territory, you know? And I took them out to the drop site. Everything was exactly as it should’ve been. I opened the doors, and they bailed.”

Monty swallowed thickly, and Steve almost felt sorry for him, having to tell this story. But the other part of him, the part that was absolutely sure where this was going, was glad to have someone to share this with.

“As they jumped over the drop site, the hillside just… erupted. Have you ever seen a napalm strike? Like that. Just fire. Everywhere beneath us. And the…” He swallowed again. “The parachutes, they must have been coated in something. Some chemical, or something. Or perhaps there were metal parts in them. But… when they hit the flames, they burned white.”

Monty stayed, looking at the floor for a long time.

“I circled back. To see if there was anyone to pick up. If there was anyone… But it was all black. Everything.”

Monty didn’t say anything else, and Steve didn’t have any words of comfort.

There was another silence.  

Steve pushed himself up onto his knees, could see the red patches where he’d been leaning against his hands.

“I… err…” Steve had to break off for a moment, as his throat closed up. “I can’t clean the blood off.”

Monty nodded, like that wasn’t nuts in itself. He got to his feet and wet a cloth. Steve didn’t make any protest. Monty crouched in front of him and started wiping off his face, making long sweeps across the side of his jaw.

“You have to do whatever you have to do,” Monty said, carefully working his way across his face, “But I think you should see Gabe. Tim’s with him, but… well, you know Tim. He needs his captain.”

Steve nodded as much as he could, with Monty’s hand steadying his jaw. Could almost feel tears welling up again. “I will.”

Monty sat back. “Can I take your shirt off?”

Steve nodded, and let Monty manoeuvre him out of it. Until he was clean.

No trace of blood.

Monty stood up, with the shirt wadded in his hand. Steve hoped he’d burn it.

“Will you…” He trailed off, gestured to the door, hoped it was clear enough.

Monty just nodded, and left the room.

Within a second Bucky was there.

Bucky dropped to his knees, and dragged Steve into his chest. “Oh God. It’s alright.”

A sob forced its way out of Steve. Involuntary, and completely vulnerable.

He couldn’t stop himself.

But Bucky was rubbing at his back, and he was warm and safe and there.

Telling him everything was going to be fine.

***

Gabe was in the airlock when Steve went to find him. The lights were down low. Jacques was in the centre of the room, covered over in his bedsheets.

Like the old sailors, sewed into their hammocks.

Steve pushed the thought away.

“Gabe.”

Gabe held a hand up, didn’t move from looking at the figure on the floor. He was giving off a weight of grief, flooding the room with it. “It’s not fair.”

“No.”

Gabe was absolutely still, he looked back. “The others are waiting, ain’t they?”

Steve nodded.

Gabe did too, then turned his attention back to Jacques. “Best send em in then. Get it over with.”

He knew Bucky was hovering near enough the door to hear Gabe’s assent, so he didn’t bother to do anything. Just let them all file in until they were stood in a semicircle around the body.

The air in the room was dense.

“Does… does anyone want to say anything?”

Everybody was looking at the floor. Dugan and Jim were flanking Gabe, like the world’s most mismatched bodyguards. Monty looked strangely vulnerable without the bomber hat, hair combed back roughly with water. He’d managed to scrounge some fabric from somewhere to make a black armband.

“Don’t need no words.” Dugan nodded towards Jacques. “Nor does he. Not anymore.”

Bucky pressed against his arm and Steve swallowed tightly. He didn’t care. It wasn’t right to say nothing.

“Requiem aeternum dona ei, Domine.”

Gabe shrugged Dugan’s arm from around him and dragged a pack of cigarettes out of his packet. He lit up with a click of his lighter. Crumpled up the packet and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Et lux perpetua luceat ei.”

There was absolute silence in the room. Steve wished he hadn’t started. Because Dugan was right, what did words matter. Jacques was dead. He was dead and that _thing_ was still on the ship.

He felt Bucky slip his hand into his.

“Requi-“ Bucky began.

Steve squeezed his hand back to cut him off. “Requiescat in pace.”

“Amen,” Bucky answered.

Steve caught Jim mouth the word, but that was all he got in response.

There was another moment of silence, and then after a couple of hushed words to Gabe, they began to peel out.

Gabe did not move.

Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand to let him know he should go with the others.

And then he and Gabe were alone.

Gabe took another drag of his cigarette. “Oughta have paired up with him insteada Barnes.”

Steve felt an instant swell of protectiveness and did his best to quell it. “What good would that have done?”

Gabe looked away. Steve saw the shiver of tension over his muscles. Then Gabe finally met his eyes, and Steve almost took a step back. It wasn’t grief that was welling up inside Gabe.

It was rage.

Steve had seen it on the front. Bright and burning behind his eyes, the same as a dozen other soldiers.

Gabe was shaking. “Don’t know how you can say your pretty words, with alla this. Thing’s fucking _evil_.”

Steve was as helpless as he had been all those other times. “It’s just an animal.”

“I don’t care.”

Gabe took a drag of his cigarette that burnt it up to the filter. He dropped it onto the floor next to Jacques’s head and crushed it into the metal with his foot. “I’m gonna burn the fucker up. Like Barnes said.”

He started walking towards the airlock door.

“Gabe,” Steve started, but he followed him out of the door.

Gabe turned to face him in the corridor. Still all fire.

“I’m gonna hunt it down. And when I find it, I’m gonna fuckin rip it apart.” He fished the cigarette packet out of his pocket and tossed it back through the airlock door. “You tell your fucking God that.”

Gabe hit the release catch and stormed away.

The door clicked shut and Steve heard the whoosh of air.

He was alone when he turned back to the glass, and watched Jacques tumble out into space.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me there's far too much testosterone on this ship ;)


	8. Chapter 8

 

Time elapsed - 18:38:12

 

A few hours had passed when they all met up back in the control room.

They’d all needed the time, and Steve was willing to give it to them. He had tracked down Bucky, but they’d mostly sat in silence in his quarters.

Now everyone was sat round the table again, except for Bucky who leapt up into his customary position on the computer station as soon as he and Steve walked in.

It was quiet.

Entirely clean.

Steve wanted to ask who had cleaned Jacques’s blood away. But the question stuck in his throat…

That was probably for the best.

Gabe had the cat on his knee, its ears were flat to its head. It was stood upright and stiff in his arms.

“What are we going to do about it?” Jim was tapping against his empty mug. Steve could guess what it’d contained.

On any other day, Steve might be suggesting he lay off the caffeine.

“We’re gonna kill it,” Gabe said, and Steve didn’t know if he had tightened his grip, or if it was something in his tone, but the cat suddenly started squirming in his hands. Gabe desperately tried to calm it.

“He knows,” Gabe said morosely. “Won’t settle. He knows Jacques is dead.”

“He knows you’re upset.” Bucky jumped down from the desk, held his hand out. The cat relaxed instantly as Gabe placed him against Bucky’s shoulder. “See?”

“What about you?” Dugan asked.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “I don’t get upset.”

That was probably the most blatant lie Bucky had ever told, but Steve wasn’t going to call him out on it. Not when he had that look on his face.

“Put him in my quarters.” Steve nodded to the door. “Lock him in. Don’t need him running around at the moment.”

Bucky shot him a tight smile, one that said he’d probably been looking for an excuse, and left.

Gabe watched him leave, eyes tracking steadily. “So we kill it,” he said, as soon as the door had clicked shut.

“Where is it?” Dugan cut in before Steve could answer.

“Went into the vents.” Monty looked round Steve and Jim. “You saw it?”

Jim was nodding, so Steve was forced to agree. In absolute honesty, he didn’t remember anything between Jacques collapsing and waking up on his bathroom floor. He knew it happened, but he couldn’t picture a single bit of it.

“Could we depressurise?” Monty asked. “If we confined ourselves to living quarters, can’t we depressurise the rest of the ship?”

Jim and Dugan both shook their heads.

“Ain’t got enough air to repressurise again. Rest of the ship’d be off limits til we got to Earth. We couldn’t get to any of the vital systems.” Jim explained.

Dugan nodded. “And combustion engines don’t like working when there’s no atmosphere.”

Monty smiled tightly. “Point taken.”

Jim looked to Dugan. “If we close of all the bulkheads in the vents we could push it into one partition.”

Dugan nodded. “We can push it towards the airlock.”

Monty frowned. “What if it hasn’t stayed in the vents?”

Jim shrugged. “Then we’ve at least isolated the system. It can’t get in again once the bulkheads are sealed.”

Gabe had his arms crossed. “Why can’t we just lock it in there?”

Steve felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. “We’re not taking any chances. We’re not takin it to Earth.”

“So someone gets in one end, checks each section and then closes the bulkheads.” Jim looked around. “I know the route. I’ll do it.”

“How you gonna push it forwards? What if it just attacks you?”

The weight in Steve’s chest got about fifty times heavier. “I’m doing it. It’s my call.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows. “Still, what you gonna do? First one smashed itself through Jacques’s helmet. You really wanna get within spittin distance of it with a pointy stick?”

“I’ll cope.”

Jim snorted. “Yeah, fuck no, I’ll rig up you up some kinda flamethrower. Ain’t got anything to make a gun, but I don’t know anything that’s not scared of fire. It’ll run away from that.”

Dugan was nodding. “We can get that fucker rigged up in half an hour.”

“Ok,” Steve nodded. “Get on with it then.”

Gabe frowned again. “Oughta have someone with ya.”

Jim shook his head. “Vents are four feet by four feet. Anyone else is gonna be in the way.”

“Even so…”

Steve broke in. “I’ll be fine. Ya got thirty minutes.”

 

***

“What the fuck!?”

Steve closed his eyes and breathed deep, once. Twice.

He turned around. The look on Bucky’s face could only be described as furious.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and whaddaya do?”

Steve sighed. “I didn’t-“

“Bull. Shit!” Bucky stopped right in front of him, spread his arms wide. “Why’s it have to be you?”

“Soldiers lead from the front.”

“Idiots lead from the front! Ya ain’t got no generals leadin the fucking charge! You send the grunts in first.”

Bucky made an aborted gesture towards himself at that. He’d clearly thought better of it as he was already moving.

But Steve got it.

He folded his arms. “You did not just call yourself cannon fodder.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. “That is not… Stop puttin words in my mouth!”

“I ain’t but…” Steve sighed because this whole thing was so ridiculous and they had to get moving. “Whaddaya gonna do, Buck? Climb in there one handed?”

Bucky stepped up close again. “It can’t hurt me, Stevie. I can’t die.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve laughed, and he heard it had a cruel edge, but for a second he didn’t care. “Cos you sure were scared of dyin this mornin!”

The shutters instantly came down on Bucky’s face, and Steve felt like an utter piece of shit.

“Fuck you, Stevie,” Bucky spat before he could say anything. Bucky leaned back against the wall with a soft clunk. “Don’t gotta be me anyway.”

“I’m the only one on this ship who’s seen combat.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “We just ignoring Monty now?”

Steve sighed again. Bucky would always find a fucking answer. There was no point. It had to be done. Why were they goin over it and over it?

“Monty was a pilot.”

“He is combat trained.” Bucky looked him up and down. “Killed a damn sight more people than you.”

But Steve had seen Monty in the bathroom. He shook his head. “Monty isn’t fit.”

“Monty wasn’t the one who was medically discharged.”

Steve’s world went red for a second, and when it flickered back, he was chest to chest with Bucky, pressing him up against the wall.

He felt a wave of revulsion, at exactly the same time as resentment welled up in him. Bucky could always get under his skin. Always knew exactly how to push him.

And there was that revulsion again, cos Steve knew exactly what he sounded like.

Bucky lifted his chin. “Still got that fucking temper, Stevie.”

Steve hated himself.

He wanted to apologise.

Wanted to hit him.

Wanted to sink into him.

He stepped back, letting his hands drop.

“We’re not discussing it anymore.” Bucky didn’t move from where he’d been pushed back against the metal. Steve took another step back to be sure. And another, backing up along the corridor. “I’m gonna get ready. That’s the end of it.”

He turned around. Tried to walk away with more calmness than he felt.

Bucky hadn’t moved from the wall. Hadn’t said anything else.

But Steve could feel his pale eyes burning into his back all the way down the corridor.

***

“Well, here goes nothin.”

Him and Dugan’d left the others in the control room, manning the radios. Jim had pressed a canister into his hands just before, attached to a long tube.

“You got about an hour’s burn time, once it’s lit.” Jim had said. He twisted the canister round, showed him a release catch. “You press this and it’ll blast the fucker in the face, but you’ll cut down your burn time.”

Jim had slapped his arm. “So don’t go blowin your load early, less you wanna be crawling about in the dark.”

He’d laughed like he was hilarious.

Dugan dragged one of the panels off the vents and pulled out a lighter. “You sure about this, Cap?”

Steve nodded and let him light the end of the tubing.

Dugan’s face was tight. “You knock on the side if you want out. I’ll follow you outside. Kick the fuckin thing in if I gotta.”

Steve forced a smile, even if his guts were churning. “It’s, what, a foot tall. I’ll be alright, Tim. I’ve seen cats bigger than that.”

“Mmmm.”

Dugan didn’t smile. He just patted him on the shoulder once, awkwardly. Like he wasn’t sure if it was allowed, or if Steve was gonna take a swing at him.

It stirred a guilty thing inside Steve when he thought about the scene in the med bay.

“Listen, Tim-“

Dugan stepped backwards. “Best get goin.”

He shot Dugan a tight smile, and then he ducked through the access vent.

It was tight. Very tight. There was about four inches of give either side of his shoulders.

Steve was thanking his lucky stars he wasn’t claustrophobic.

He jumped as there was a loud clunk and he was plunged into darkness.

He steadied his breathing. It was just Dugan replacing the hatch.

He clicked his radio on. “Jim? You hear me?”

“Crystal clear, Cap. Got your tracker too.”

“Great.” Steve looked up the vent, flaring every time the flame caught some bit of uneven metal. “Stay on the line, Jim. Stay-“

“Sure thing, bud. Don’t need to give me an excuse to keep talking.”

Steve swallowed tightly. He couldn’t quite find it in him to laugh. “Right.”

He started to crawl, awkward holding the canister and tubing. He was having to hitch forward on one elbow.

His knees were going to make him pay for this tomorrow. Maybe he should’ve taken his boots off. The rubber at the toes was squeaking every time he moved.

“Cap? You’re comin up to the first hatch. You’re gonna wanna engage the lock behind you, and then go left, alright?”

“Left,” Steve said under his breath.

His t-shirt was already clinging to his back. The heat from the exhausts hadn’t felt so bad at first, not so different from the rest of the ship. But in the enclosed area, the moisture was hanging in the air.

He hitched himself through the hatch and hit the release on the wall to let it close with a hiss behind him.

He squeezed himself left.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, Cap, I hear ya?”

“You got any movement?”

“Nah, just you.”

His knees were burning as he shuffled. “Alright.”

God, he wished Bucky were talking to him. Wished they hadn’t fought. Wished he’d explained everything to him.

He’d stood stony faced at the back of the control room all the while they’d been getting ready. Hadn’t said a word to him.

Steve missed his voice like an ache in his bones.

“Buck?”

There was a shuffle over the radio. “Yeah?”

Steve breathed. “I love you, alright? I’m sorry. I know-“

“Feel the need to remind you, lover, that you’re all over an open radio line.”

Bucky’s voice was tight, but fond.

“Sorry.”

Steve kept crawling. He could feel the pressure of the walls either side of him. Felt like insects were scuttling over his skin.

 “Buck?”

There was a pause. “I’m here. Ya oughta be talkin to Jimmy though, since he knows what’s crackin.”

“There’s nothin behind me? Nothin..? I can’t see.”

“Nothin, Stevie. We just got you on the motion sensors.”

“Alright.”

The flickering light was disorientating. He kept sensing movement out of the corner of his eye, but there was nothing there.

He bit his lip and didn’t say anything. Didn’t inspire confidence, him getting all panicky over the radio.

“Right, Steve.” Jim again. “You’re coming up to another hatch. ‘S bigger through there. You should be able to crouch.”

“Wonderful.”

He was pretty sure he was beginning to spot blood through the knees of his pants.

He heard the sputter of Jim’s laugh. “That’s what you get for being two hundred pounds of muscle.”

“You jealous, Jimmy?”

“Nah, man, my body is a temple.”

Steve heard Monty laugh in the background, muffled like he was away from the microphone. “Who to, Bacchus?”

“You know what, limey?”

There was a bit of scuffling over the radio, and a squawk of laughter.

Steve smiled.

Jim was right, when Steve hauled himself through, he could feel the metal widening out. Not enough to turn around easily, but enough that there was space above his head.

He stopped, shuffling until he got his feet under him. Left his hands free to hold the tubing a bit more like a weapon. Even if it felt slippery and slick in his palms.

He wiped off his hands on his pants.

He was soaking wet. There was no movement of air at all. Nothing to cool him down. It was just sweat on top of sweat at this point.

He had a headache.

“You alright there, Cap?”

“Yeah,” he grit out. Kept moving.

His knees might be relishing the rest, but now his back was protesting. Loudly.

Christ, he hadn’t realised how long it’d been since Orion. He was older. Too fucking old for this bullshit.

He grit his teeth and pushed forward faster. He knew it was irrational, but he was angry, the old feeling. _Don’t tell me what I can’t do._

He was breathing hard, but he was fucking moving. He was so intent on each step, that it was a second before he heard Jim calling his name over the radio.

“Steve, just stop for a minute.”

“What?”

“Just be quiet.”

Steve went instantly still. Because he knew that tone. He’d used it enough at the front.

He was straining his ears, but all he could make out was his breathing. His own pulse.

“Jim?” He whispered. “What..?”

And then he heard it.

The scratch of something hard against metal. He froze.

And suddenly Jim was screaming in his ear at exactly the same time as there was a screech right in front of him.

He released the canister without thinking and saw teeth and eyes and too long limbs, before it was blotted out by white fire. He fell backwards as the thing screeched again in surprise.

“Back up! Back up!” Jim was shouting.

He couldn’t get his feet under him, couldn’t see for the neon light that’d burned into his retinas. He scrabbled backwards, feet sliding on the metal, tryin to keep his weapon pointed forwards.

There was still shuffling and scratching in front of him as the thing struggled to force its way towards him. Since he couldn’t see, his brain filled in its spindly limbs squealing across metal.

He could hear Jim, but he couldn’t make out the words.

He felt movement at his feet. Released the canister again.

And this time he saw its face, its jaw, heard its indignant shriek as it clamped around the tubing in his hand and wrenched the canister out of his hands.

There was a bright whoosh of heat and light, and he threw himself backwards.

The flash fire was out in a second. He could still hear the thing shrieking.

Not injured.

Fucking pissed.

There was a continuous stream of sound coming over the radio, just ‘movemovemovemovemove’.

He could move easier with his arms free, but it was still too tight to turn around. Something grabbed at his foot and he kicked blind. Felt the thud of something.

He was pretty sure he was shouting. Didn’t know what though. Just noises. Just pleas.

“Go right! Right!”

His right hand met void and he shoved himself through the gap… right before he realised that if he was moving backwards…

“No, right!”

“Too late!”

“Ya fuckin stupid son of a-“

His stomach lurched as he backed up and met air. He scrabbled to get some kind of purchase but he was over balanced… and he was falling…

He clattered down the metal and thudded onto his back. Everything flared with pain. His radio was just emitting a static buzz.

And then as the flash blindness finally cleared, and he could make out the sides of the hatch he’d fallen down, he saw it.

It was curled at the top of the hatch, upside down and watching him, maybe ten feet above him.

They were both still. Watching each other.

Everything was silent except for the buzz at the back of Steve’s head, which sounded suspiciously like it was saying ‘move’.

Neither of them did.

Then its lips slowly drew back.

And its mouth began to open.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Steve kicked off the wall and he moved.

He moved, like he didn’t know he could. He’d twisted as he went so he was on his belly, scrambling forward on his elbows.

The thing thudded into the metal behind him.

He was breathing hard, swearin on each breath but he couldn’t be sure what he was sayin.

His muscles were burning. Lungs too.

It grabbed at his ankle. He kicked out again, screaming.

His ankle was burning.

He tried to dig his fingernails into the seams in the metal.

His leg bloomed with sharp pain.

Lost his grip on the metal.

He screamed. Sound he didn’t know he could make.

As his skin burned against the metal.

And he was dragged backwards.

***

“Shit! Fuck!” Jim slapped at the microphone and sent it spinning round in a desperate circle. “Lost the fucking signal. Lost-“

He leapt about a foot into the air when Barnes’s hand clenched on his shoulder. Fucking hard.

“Get it back!”

“Can’t. His end not-“

“Where is he?”

“I dunno, man. He musta lost his tracker too.”

The hand left his shoulder and Jim had just enough time to register Monty shout Barnes’s name before he realised they all oughta be movin. By the time he’d got his shit together, he was the last one in the room.

He half fell over his chair trying to follow them.

“Shit, shit, fuck.”

Once he got goin he passed Monty and Gabe easy enough, sendin a quick prayer of thanks to Marie for persuading him to keep up with the track training after college. He could still see Barnes sprinting up the corridor. Thankfully the A2s weren’t exactly built for speed, and Jim’d caught up to his back before they reached the right junction.

Tim was stood, one foot on the ladder. “Which way?”

“Down!”

Steve must’ve come up to the access shaft, and unless he’d got his shit together enough to climb it (and he was not taking any fucking bets on that), Jim was betting he’d taken a trip southwards.

Barnes didn’t wait for confirmation. He just stepped forward, unceremoniously shoved Tim back a step, and dropped down onto the lower deck with a thud that meant Jim didn’t know whether to feel more sorry for the metal in his joints, or in the floor.

“Barnes, wait!”

And within a heartbeat, Tim was heading down too.

“Fucking stupid reckless fucks.”

Jim was still swearing under his breath while he tried not to lose his footing down the rungs. He clattered down the last few and staggered back onto the deck, lungs burning.

Barnes was stumbling up the corridor, crouching awkwardly, Tim directly behind him. It wasn’t until Jim heard Barnes calling ‘Stevie?’ and knocking on the wall, that Jim realised they were following the vents.

Jim called out to them, but Barnes had reached a volume previously ascribed only to jet engines.

“Hey, hang on, man!”

An eerie screech echoed out into the corridor and Jim felt his stomach drop into his boots. Adrenaline vertigo that left his pulse thudding in his throat, and he stumbled. Threw a hand out to the wall to stop himself going down.

Tim looked back at him with wide eyes, but before either of them could speak they were cut off by Barnes’s unintelligible yell. Jim just about got himself together to see Barnes punch through the wall.

Little specks of white coolant sprayed out as the metal buckled and Barnes shoved his hand in.

“Jesus,” Tim breathed.

Barnes jerked backwards and the metal plate flew backwards, taking half the wall along with it.

A thrashing blond was dragged out of the gap, like a parody of the world’s weirdest rebirth ceremony.

Steve was yelling. He’d flung a hand out that’d knocked Barnes flat on his back, and the two of them were just a tangle of flailing limbs.

Jim went to help them.

“Fuck!”

He span back around at Tim’s shout.

_It_ was there.

It stepped out from the missing plate in the wall. Unfolding. It was…

It was not a fucking baby…

It leered over them.

Steve was making a low noise behind them.

Some kind of moan.

Despair and horror.

Every awful thing in the universe.

Jim stumbled backwards, away from where its teeth were grinning from its open mouth.

He was pretty sure he was about to piss himself.

He couldn’t feel anything below his knees. Wasn’t sure how he was still stood up.

It turned, its joints seeming to crack unnaturally, until it found Steve with its eyeless face.

It took one elegant step towards him.

“Hey!”

Jim jumped about a foot in the air in shock.

His ankles gave way as his brain realised it couldn’t control them. He thudded onto his ass.

Didn’t feel that either.

Cos Tim was stepping forward, and Jim couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t get his brain to put the pieces together. But Tim had hold of something shiny.

It was piece of metal piping, ripped away as collateral with the vent plate.

“Hey!” Tim shouted again.

Barnes and Steve were still scuffling over to Jim’s right. Oblivious.

Or just engrossed in their own private struggle.

Tim stepped up like he was goin for a fuckin home run.

He swung.

The thing gave a shriek as the pipe connected with a dull thud, and a thin spray of its blood arced into the air.

It splattered onto the grate at Jim’s side.

There was an instant smell of burning metal. Like solder, but with an acrid chemical edge. The metal was fizzing and melting.

Jim felt the world twist around him.

Wanted to laugh but it caught in his throat.

Because, of course.

Of course, this fucking nightmare thing would have _acid_ for blood.

The thing whipped round, its tail snapping out.

He heard Tim gasp. The pipe clattered onto the floor with a metallic clang.

Jim tried and failed to get to his feet. He ended up on his knees.

 “Hey!”

The thing span around.

And Jim was absolutely fucking sure he was about to die.

Its lips drew back. Displaying rows and rows of fucking teeth. Wet and freaking dripping.

It hissed through its gaping mouth, and then took a slow step backwards.

When no one moved, it backed up, and disappeared back into the vent.

Jim couldn’t move.

The only sound was their gasping breaths.

Tim dropped.

And Jim…

Jim…

He felt faint. His vision was going black at the edges. Everything was fuzzy.

His stomach was rolling.

Tim was convulsing on the floor.

Steve was still making that godawful noise. He’d shaken Barnes’s hold. He was moving, crawling.

Over to Tim.

And there was red.

Jim’s vision cleared.

Brain too.

He started crawling all on his own.

Steve clasped his hands all over Tim’s throat. Chanting ‘no, no, no’.

Jim’s hands were red, where he’d crawled.

All red.

Steve’s face was wet.

Barnes was trying to drag him off.

 “No!” Steve shoved at Barnes, sent him sprawling back. 

Tim had empty eyes.

There was blood bubbling out of his mouth. Clogging up his airway.

Staining dark against his moustache.

The three day old stubble on his chin.

Steve was pressing down so hard his fingers were turning white.

Hard enough that he was crushing Tim’s throat. That Tim wouldn’t be able to breath.

But Tim had gone still.

Jim noted it vaguely. Like he was noticing the rust stains on the grating.

Or that a seam had frayed on his company issue cargoes.

His head felt fuzzy.

Hollow.

He leant over to the side and threw up for the eleventh time in three days.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Time elapsed – 32:42:18

 

Steve was sat on the floor. He had a blanket around him. Couldn’t remember how it’d got there.

He was still cold.

The cat had bullied its way onto his lap, nudging at his elbow and rubbing its face down his leg, until he relented and let it sit where it wanted.

It hadn’t stopped, had just moved its attention onto his chest, every so often stretching up to press the top of its head beneath his chin.

There were footsteps outside the door.

He shivered and dragged the blanket closer around him. The cat gave an indignant mew at being enclosed, but it did consent to sit down.

He felt sick.

The door opened with a hiss. He knew it was Bucky, so he didn’t bother looking.

“S’like every bad dream I’ve ever had. Every one.” He met Bucky’s eyes, soft and sad in the low light. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, darlin.”

Bucky crossed the two steps over to him and crouched down. 

Steve ducked his face into the blanket. “Must be dreaming. Can’t… I don’t know what’s real. It can’t be real.”

He felt Bucky’s hand drop onto his shoulder, rubbing circles into the hollow beneath his collarbone. “You know it is, Stevie.”

He lifted his head, met the look of concern on Bucky’s face. “Do I?”

He remembered that feeling intimately. The not knowing. How it felt like freefalling because there was nothing really _solid_ to cling onto.

Bucky smiled tightly.

It didn’t really look like a smile at all.

“Can I check you over?” His thumb was still rubbing into Steve’s shoulder. “Got a bit beat up, pal.”

Steve dropped his face back beneath the blanket.

“Stevie,” Bucky was brushing at his hair, “Stevie, I need to check you over.”

That was a tone that Bucky never, ever used unless it was deathly important. So, when he felt Bucky’s hands tugging at him, slipping underneath his chin to lift his head, he let him.

There was a deep line across Bucky’s brow as he frowned.

He turned Steve’s face with the grip on his jaw and raised his thumb to brush gently across his cheek.

Steve hissed at the sharp pain, pulled back so quickly that the cat gave a grumbling growl from his lap.

“Sorry,” Bucky dropped his hand quickly. “You… err, you caught yourself a bit there.”

Now Bucky had drawn attention to it, the side of his face was throbbing.

“Caught mys-?”

Bucky caught his wrist before he could probe his cheek.

“Sorry,” Bucky dropped him quickly again, “just don’t want you to get anything in it.” He sucked in a breath he didn’t need to take as he ducked down to look again. “I’m guessin Jim’s flamethrower wasn’t an unqualified success?”

Steve winced again. “It bad?”

Bucky sat back, face utterly innocent, confused. “Well, it isn’t good, Steve.”

Steve’s heart tripled it’s beating as Bucky held the blank look for a couple of seconds, then Steve caught the hint of a smirk.

He dropped his head back into his knees. “Oh, you jerk!”

Bucky was openly grinning. “Hang on.”

He disappeared off into the bathroom, returning a couple of seconds later clutching an armful of medical supplies. He dropped back to his knees, started ripping open packets and getting ready.

Steve let himself zone out to the vibration of the cat purring against his chest.  

Bucky swore, and when Steve glanced down he saw that he was struggling to open a jar one handed.

“Here?”

Bucky let him open it, then took it back. “Fine pair we make.”

Steve smiled, but his nerves were shot to all hell. As soon as, Bucky’s hand appear in his peripheral vision, he made a noise in the back of his throat and batted him away. “No.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “You just literally watched me struggle with alla this. Now sit still.”

“No.” He caught Bucky’s wrist. Acid was crawling up from his stomach at the thought of anyone being near his face.

He ducked his head.

“Stevie.”

That tone was impossible to defy. He reluctantly left his cocoon, Bucky was biting the inside of his lip.

“Just let me deal with the burn.” His eyes slid down the rest of his body, doubt and deliberation warring on his face. “I promise I’ll let whatever else you’re hidin go, but that looks like it hurts, bud.”

Steve looked away. “I can’t feel anything.”

Bucky’s fingers landed gently on his chin again, and he shuddered, suppressing the urge to just slap him away.

Bucky’s eyes were wide. “Don’t check out on me, alright? Not today.”

Steve just about managed to catch himself before he answered ‘too late’.

“I mean it.” Bucky’s grip tightened, shook him slightly. “I mean it, Steve.”  

He felt himself nod vaguely.

Felt Bucky start on his cheek. Felt it sting and then calm, as Bucky put whatever was in the jar on it.

He closed his eyes. Kept seeing teeth in the dark. Kept seeing blood.

Kept seeing Jacques’s body tumbling into the deep dark.  

“What are we gonna do, Buck?”

Bucky was peeling off medical tape with his teeth, struggling with a dressing. “I don’t know, darlin.”

“I let it in.”

“We all agreed.”

“But it was my call. My order.”

“Steve. We _all_ agreed.”

He shook his head.

“Steve.”

“I don’t know… It’s… It’s…” His hands were shaking. “It’ll… It’s not like anythin-“

Bucky’s hand was on his chin again. “Stevie? When’d you last eat?”

He shook his head again, stumbled to get himself to his feet. There was an indignant squawk from his lap as the cat thudded to the floor.

“Hang on, Stevie.” He barely registered Bucky’s disappearance before he was back. “Take these.”

“Wha’ is’t?”

“It’s your fluoxetine, darlin, and temazepam.”

He shoved them in his mouth. The chalky taste coating his mouth as he swallowed them dry. “I gotta get back to the control room. We gotta- Need to find Jimmy.“

“Let’s sit down first, yeah?”

He shook his head, but Bucky’s grip was like iron. He couldn’t do anything but let himself be dragged towards the bed. Bucky took the seat next to him.

“Here.”

Steve was shaking his head even before Bucky had pulled out the emergency ration packet out if his pocket.

“Steve, don’t even start. Eat it.”

“I feel sick.”

“Yeah, cos you ain’t eaten properly since you got outta cryo.”

Steve took the packet. “I hate this paste stuff.”

“Well, eat meals like every other human and you won’t have to have crisis rations, will ya?”

He sighed, a put upon thing, but he was feeling rational enough to realise Bucky was right. He ripped the top of the plastic open with his teeth and sucked in a mouthful of the claggy paste. It tasted like raw meat that’d been put in a blender.

Bucky’s hand was tracing slow circles over his back. “Just give it a minute, alright?”

Steve nodded, folding the tube up from the end in neat rolls. His stomach was cramping from the sudden influx of calories, but it’d kicked his brain into gear.

He had to eat.

It’d be hell when the energy debt caught up with him.

Bucky hadn’t stopped his slow arcs. “You ok?”

Steve nodded. He was suddenly achingly tired. And ashamed. “Need to shower.”

“Already did all that, darlin,” Bucky said sadly, and Steve instantly realised that the pants he was wearing were not as full of grease and blood as he’d thought.

Bucky hadn’t missed a beat, which made Steve think it probably wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.

Steve lolled over to press a kiss to Bucky’s neck. “Thank you,” he said, voice muffled against synthetic skin.

Bucky pressed into his hair. “Any time, darlin.”

There was a thud on the bed next to them, but before he could even react, there was an irritated mew, and Steve felt the sharp weight of cat paws against his lap.

Bucky laughed, a warm, pretty thing. “Think Jonesy wants a piece of the action.”

Steve looked up. The cat was straddling the both of them, back paws on his leg, front ones on Bucky. As he watched, it arched to rub against them, in an elegant wave from its head to its tail. Then it tucked its forehead to Bucky’s chin in what appeared to be total devotion.

Steve knew cats better than that. Particularly this one. 

He smiled and stroked it. “Hey, he’s mine, you know? Back off.”

It took him a second to realise what he’d said, but when he glanced up to meet Bucky’s eyes there wasn’t any hurt there.

“Damn straight,” Bucky said, smiling. “Always have been.”

 

***

 

Steve was already beginning to feel the effects of the drugs by the time they’d located the others, way at the back of the ship in one of the equipment storage rooms. Everything had a weird quality like the world was moving too fast around him.

Every time he turned, if felt like it took his brain a half second to catch up.

There was an almost endless delay as his eyes flickered around the room and took in the scene. Jim was crouched behind one of the control panels, there was an acrid smell of burnt metal hanging in the air. 

Gabe had the mangled remains of what Steve recognised as his flame thrower. He had the parts stripped back away from it, was fiddling inside with a screwdriver. 

Monty was the only one not occupied. He was sat on floor at the side of the room. Not looking at anyone. There was a jerry-rigged monitor at his feet, which had clearly been part of the ship’s central systems. It’d been stripped out and linked up through the inventory system.

Steve may have to get someone to explain it to him later. And by someone, he meant Bucky.

"Why are you all in here?"

"Too many ways into the control room. Fucker's not getting in here though." Jim's head popped over the top of the panel. He nodded at where he and Bucky were standing. "Only way in is through that door." 

"We ain't staying in here," Gabe growled around the screwdriver he was holding in his mouth. "I've told ya."

“We have to go and get Dugan.” Monty was chewing absently at his nail, staring into space. “His body. We have to-“

“No, we don’t. He don’t care no more.” Gabe barely looked up. “Wouldn’t want us getting hurt over that anyway.”

Monty snapped up. “Wouldn’t want to be dead either, would he?”

“You know what-“ The table clattered as Gabe forced himself to feet. “You wanna keep your mouth shut!”

“Hey! Hey!” Steve had a grip on the back of Gabe’s shirt before he’d even realised he’d moved. “This isn’t helping. You’re my second, aren’t you?”

Gabe was breathing heavily. Steve could feel the heaving of his chest.

“Alright,” Gabe let out a breath, “alright.”

He shrugged away from Steve, stepped back towards the table. “Last one of us alive ain’t gettin a funeral, that’s all I’m sayin.”

He slumped down with that pronouncement, and went sullenly back to his work.

Steve felt his mouth drop open as he tried to come up with a response. He gave up, just as he felt Bucky slip their hands together.

“Jim?” He turned to where Jim had disappeared into the wall again. “What are you doing?”

“Sealin the room.”

Gabe dropped the screwdriver again. “We ain’t stayin in here.”

“Speak for yourself, buddy.”

“We gotta kill the fucker!” Gabe looked back to the two of them. “You agree? Barnes?”

Steve felt Bucky shift beside him. “I could get behind that.”

“Nah.” Jim popped up again, and replaced the panel. Stood up, Steve could see the tremor in his hands, the sheen of sweat across his forehead. He was beginning to look pale and drawn. “That’s nuts. You gotta know that. We stay in here. Ship’s on course. I ain’t leaving this room.” He leaned across to scoop up a canteen. The trembling of his hand got noticeably worse as he took a swig. “Any luck, and the bastard’ll starve to death before we get to Earth.”

“So will you,” Bucky said.

Jim held his gaze over the top of the canteen. “I’ll take my chances.”

Steve swallowed thickly at the empty look in his eyes. “You wanna lay off the coffee, Jimmy?”

Jim shook his head, still drinking.

“We can’t take it back with us,” Monty sounded oddly emotionless. “We have to kill it.”

“Exactly,” Gabe said.

Jim laughed. “How? Fucker bleeds acid.” He laughed again, and there was something unstrung about it. Something haunting. He dropped in a graceless heap to the floor. “Can’t even kill it. Can’t even kill it!”

Steve felt like the floor was tilting. Everyone was staring. At him and at Jimmy.

But what was he supposed to do?

What could he do?

Jim took a deep, heaving breath. Another. And abruptly his laughter failed. He dropped his face into his knees. He let out a shuddering sob, silent except for the wetness of his breaths.

Steve stepped forward without thinking, lost Bucky’s hand. He crouched gently at Jim’s side, and pulled him into a hug. Jim went easily, limply, but he didn’t emerge from the cocoon of his own arms, as if the comfort he offered just couldn’t make a dent.

Steve felt oddly, emotionlessly helpless, patting at his friend’s back, while the others just silently looked away.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt so utterly, awfully alone.

 

***

 

When Steve woke, he still felt fuzzy. Still had the faint drunk feeling, like dragging himself towards consciousness just wasn't worth the effort. 

It was a few moments before he realised his arm was numb. He forced his eyes open to find Bucky leaning heavily against him, eyes closed. 

He made a couple of cursory attempts to get his arm back and then gave up. Bucky was all but immovable when he was sleeping. 

Steve watched for a few seconds. In the faint light, Bucky was beautiful. Perfect. 

Wait… 

Why was it so dark? 

Steve swivelled round as best he could without disturbing Bucky, and caught sight of Monty, illuminated by the computer screen. All Steve could make out was his face, glowing brightly in the electronic light. 

"M'nty?" It felt like his mouth wouldn't work.

"Captain," Monty said without looking up, "go back to sleep."

"Why's 't dark?"

Monty gave a vague shrug. "Light's went off about two hours ago."

Steve struggled to sit up a bit straighter. "What's Jimmy say?" 

A faint smile curled at Monty's lip. "Good luck getting an answer out of him."

He nodded towards the opposite side of the room. It took a second before Steve caught on, but then he followed Monty's gaze. 

Jim was sprawled on the floor on his front, face pillowed in the crook of his elbow. Steve wondered if he’d cried himself out. He looked for all the world like he'd just keeled over and face planted the floor, but Steve could see the steady rise fall of his back.

Regardless, Jim had evidently found the limit of caffeine's ability to replace sleep. 

Hopefully the rest would help.

Steve actually felt himself smile. Actually felt the conscious movement of his muscles. God, he hated temazepam.

A fuzzy thought entered into the back of his consciousness. "Where's Gabe?"

"He went out."

"Out? But-" Steve cast around for the door, as if the closed metal could answer any questions. "Why didn't you stop him?" 

"How?" Monty was frowning. "He's a grown man, Steve." 

"But, he's not- he can't-" Steve was struggling to work out what Gabe shouldn't be doing. 

"Steve." Monty was looking at him. "Go back to sleep." 

That sounded pretty tempting, particularly with Bucky warm and at his side, and Jim's soft breathing across the room. 

He forced his eyes open again. "What about you?" 

"I'm alright," Monty was staring at the screen again, a faint line showing up between his eyebrows, illuminated by the oblique light. "I just need to find something out." 

That sounded reasonable, and Steve couldn't really be bothered to fight the fuzziness anymore. He stayed watching Monty for another few seconds, then dropped his head against Bucky's and gave in to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not dead! 
> 
> Hopefully it was worth the wait. 
> 
> I also realised that I messed up the timescale quite considerably, so, sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I'll sort that out at some point.


	11. Chapter 11

 

Steve startled awake from what felt like the sleep of the dead.

For a second, he was disorientated and dizzy. Waking up on the floor had never signalled good things.

“Hey, hey, Cap, slow down.”

He forced himself up onto his elbow, squinted over at the source of the sound. “Jimmy?”

“One and only,” Jim said, without a trace of humour.

It was still dark. Jim had rigged a lamp off some emergency power system. It was giving off a faint fluorescent glow.

The heat within the ship was getting increasingly dire. Steve was beginning to find it hard to breathe. Somewhere beneath them, the ships engines were giving low whirr, vibrating up through the floor. Steve couldn’t explain why, but it sounded off key.

“S’happened with the power?”

“Fucked if I know.”

“Jim.”

“What?” Jim snapped. “Who cares? Dugan’s dead, and I sure as shit ain’t goin pokin around in the engines. It’s probably the cooling system again.”

Steve frowned. “Thought that was fixed.”

“Fuck you.”

Jim’s expression was dark.

“Jimmy-“

“I’m doin my best, alright? I don’t know. I don’t know what we did or didn’t do and Dugan’s dead so I can’t fucking ask him. I’m just a fucking engine mech, that’s all, Steve. I’m not freakin Elon Musk, alright? I don’t have all the answers here.”   

Jim was breathing hard.

Steve blinked a couple of times, then pushed himself to his feet.

“You eaten, Jimmy?” From the confused look on Jim’s face, he’d guess no. “Let’s eat.”

“Oughta conserve it.”

Steve shook his head and walked stiffly over to the pile of supplies the others must have dragged in here. “You know how many people die in the desert with water still in their packs? We gotta start thinkin clearly here.”

God knows they hadn’t exactly been winnin any awards so far.

Grabbing a couple of hours and loading up on calories had certainly took edge off for him.

It was time to take stock.

Steve grabbed another couple of the emergency ration packs and settled down next to Jim. “Where are the others?”

Jim shook his head. “Barnes and Monty went out to go grab more water from the stores. Even so…”

Jim trailed off, and Steve knew exactly what he was thinking. This ship was supplied based on them being in cryo. It was over stocked in case of emergency, but the jury was definitely out on whether they had three months’ worth of rations left.

And that wasn’t even counting what they could get access to without running into that _thing_.

Steve pressed his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. “And Gabe isn’t back?”

Jim was shaking his head again when Steve looked up.

Steve shuffled a little closer. “Look, Jimmy, what are the options here? We don’t need to tell anyone else, but just between us?”

“Stay here,” Jim said, without hesitation. He swallowed sharply. “That’s… that’s pretty much just waiting though…”

“We can’t take the ship back?”

Jim smiled. “You’re the fuckin jarhead, you tell me?”

“No.”

There was no way. The ship was a maze. There were five of them left and no weapons. Trying to kill the damn thing would only let them get picked off.

“Answer me honest, Jim. Is this ship getting back to Earth? Or… or even just back to the shipping routes?”

“I don’t know.”

Steve searched his face, but he couldn’t find any dishonesty there.

Jim shrugged. “Could do. Could be lucky. I weren’t lyin before, I don’t know what’s wrong with the engines. Could I fix it? Probably. With time. With help. With the fucking lights on, and no goddamn Cthulhu wanderin around waitin to fuckin lay eggs in my stomach or eat my fuckin eyeballs or whatever it’s gonna do next.”

Steve closed his eyes. “I thought that was what you were gonna say.”

However much better he felt after his drug induced coma, he was still achingly tired. His cheek was burning steadily, reminding him that he was probably due another dose of whatever Bucky had put on it.

His joints had seized up overnight, sat curled upright on the hard metal.

All in all, he felt like shit.

“Steve?” He was pretty sure Jim’s eyes were beginning to look wet. “You’re thinkin we’re gonna abandon this ship, aren’t you?”

His career was over if they did… All their careers…

And Bucky…

Bucky would be reassigned.

With the grace of God, he’d _only_ be reassigned.

Steve let his head clunk back onto the metal behind them. “I’m not seein another option here, I’ll be honest.”

Jim nodded, scrunched up his empty ration pack and dropped it onto the floor. He sniffed, and rubbed at his face. “We gotta problem then.”

Steve looked at him.

Jim swallowed thickly. “We only got one EES left.”

Steve’s brain clunked its way over nothing for a couple of seconds. “The escape pods?”

“Mmmm.” Jim sounded utterly miserable. “I stripped the other one, cannibalised it for parts. They… they only got three cryostations in each. Ain’t got the lifesupport to take any more either.”

Steve’s stomach dropped into his boots. “But…”

“I’ll stay,” Jim said quickly. “It’s my fault anyway.”

“No-“

Jim cut him off with a laugh. “Facts say different, Cap.”

“Stop. We all agreed on everythin, and if it’s on anyone, it’s on me.”

Jim smiled again. “No offense, Cap, but we all know that you know shit about engineering. You know shit about making this ship run. It was my idea to strip the EES, Dugan wouldn’t have come up with that, and even if he did, he’s dead now so it don’t matter, it’s on me.”

“We’re not doing this.”

“Steve-“

“No.” He was beginning to lose his temper. He took a couple of deep breaths. “We’re not doin this, alright? We’re not. It was you that said we either all get back or none of us do.”

Jim laughed again. “Yeah, well, I’m startin to think the limey was right on that one.”

Steve grabbed Jim’s hand. Squeezed. “That still leaves four. Four of us. You want me to stay as well?”

“No-“

“Then no more. We’re not talking about this again, alright?”

“Al-alright.”

Jim winced, and Steve dropped his hand like it was burning. “Sorry.”

Jim shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine.” He smiled. “You got a way of winning arguments, you know that?”

Steve tried to fashion his own grin from the torn up remnants of his nerves. “That a compliment?”

Jim looked away.

 

***

 

It wasn’t long before the other two were back, hefting packages of H2 along with them. Or in Monty’s case, dragging them along the floor.

Bucky dropped his load with a thud and scanned the room. “Gabe isn’t back?”

Steve shook his head. “We’ll go out, look for him. Pairs should work. Two man party, two here to keep this room secure.”

“Before we all, erm, go running off again, I’ve got something to show you.” Monty was panting with the exertion of his excursion, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, but his hand was steady as he pulled a printout out of his inside jacket pocket.

Steve felt a prickle down the back of his neck. “What is it?”

“The work I’ve been doing. You asked me to research the transmission.”

Steve woulda put someone on a charge for being so round about with a report in the marines. He forced himself calm. “Yeah, I remember. What’ve you found?”

Monty took a tight breath. “The signal was made to look like it came from the planet, but it didn’t. It originated here.”

There was a beat of silence.

Jim let out a choked laugh. “That ain’t very funny.”

Monty just looked confused.

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Black Christmas? ‘The call’s comin from inside the house’?”

Steve looked at Bucky, who just shrugged.

“Ah, you’re all uncultured.”

“Anyway,” Monty thrust the readout back towards Steve, “it came from here. It was encoded, but it came from here.”

Steve took the paper and scanned down it, feeling Bucky and Jim crowd on either side.

“Huh.” Jim was frowning. “Almost, Ace. There wasn’t a signal. Computer was set to ping with the coordinates, but there wasn’t a signal.” He looked towards Monty. “That’s why you couldn’t translate it.”

Steve frowned too. “But then why-“

“It was a trap, Steve.” Monty looked as close to livid as he’d ever seen him. It was still icy calm. “We were meant to come out here. We were meant to land on that planetoid.”

Jim was practically buzzing with anger. He slammed his fist onto the table. “Weyland lied to us! I knew it! I fucking knew it! Why else would they be sendin us out this far? The ore we been picking up musta barely covered costs.”

Steve turned back to the paper, as if reading it and reading it could make it make more sense. “But why?”

“Weapons,” Monty said, darkly. “They’ve got a pulse weaponry division. I’d lay a wager that they’re intending to branch out into biological warfare.” Monty laughed, suddenly. Humourlessly. “It make sens-“

He was cut off as Bucky made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “That’s my code.” He made a motion to gesture at the paper, but just ended up jabbing his finger at it. “It’s my code.”

“Buck?”

Bucky was stock still, staring at the paper.

“Bucky?”

“We were all in stasis,” Monty cut in, looking directly at Bucky, “look at the timestamp. We were all still in stasis.”

“No.” Bucky was shaking his head.

“Computer logs it automatically,” Jim said, looking round at them all, “it’s not like a password, you can’t use someone else’s code. It’s done with voice recognition. Iris analysis. Company don’t like fraud. It’s… unique…” Jim’s eyes went wide. “Son of a bitch.”

Steve stepped forward. “Now wait a seco-“

“No!” Bucky was moving backwards. Just one step at first, then more, and faster. “No. No.”

His knees hit one of the chairs and he sat down heavily. His eyes met Steve’s for one brief second, and Steve was pretty sure he’d see that look in his nightmares.

Then he looked away.

“No, I don’t,” Bucky said decisively, like it was a complete thought, and then he was still.

“Buck?” Steve stumbled across. “Bucky?”

No response.

Steve dropped into the seat at the side of him, cupped his cheek. “Buck, you’re scarin me.”

There was nothing. Steve tried to get a hold of his hand, but there was no give in his body at all. It was like trying to hold hands with a statue. He was absolutely immovable.

Then his face went slack.

“Bucky?” Steve hand was on his face again. “Bucky, no. No!” He was on his feet, would’ve slapped him, if he thought it’d have done anything other than break his hand. He was having visions of fried circuits. Of every nightmare he’d ever had. “Bucky! Come fucking back now!”

It was a tone he’d only ever used during their most blazing rows. The ones where it was odds on whether he’d be crying or punching through the wall.

And it clearly triggered something, because there was an instant whirring noise and Bucky lolled up to face him, though there was nothing in his eyes to say he was seeing anything.

“I…” He started. “I… I… I…”

Each attempt was accompanied by a jerk and the sound of gears violently resetting.

Steve sank back down into his seat. “Buck, please.”

He cast around, looking for help, not carin how pathetic he looked.

Jim stepped forward. “A2, diagnostic report.”

Bucky jerked once more and then went still. “Corrupted files located.”

His voice was empty.

“Delete corrupted files.”

“Selected action may cause irreparable damage to open programs. Proceed?”

“No!” Steve snapped, in that same tone again.

Jim raised a hand placatingly. “Isolate and bypass corrupted files.”

There was a moments silence and then that whirring again.

And there was life in Bucky’s eyes again.

He looked surprised for a moment, and then looked for Steve.  He could see nothing but horror in his expression.

“It was me.” He got unsteadily to his feet. “It was me.”

“Buck?”

He was making for the door. Steve didn’t try to stop him, mainly because he didn’t want to talk to him with an audience. He was two steps behind him all the way into the corridor.

Steve caught his arm. “Bucky?”

Bucky span round. “I did it.”

“It wasn’t you, Buck. It wasn’t.”

Bucky went rigid again. “They’re dead. They’re all dead. They’re all dead.”

This was the closest androids could come to having panic attacks, but Steve recognised it for what it was this time. It was a paradox loop. Steve’d once told a joke that’d sent him into one.

It was in his programming. No violence.

No harm.

“Command prompt, reset!” Steve said it as calmly as he could manage.

Bucky went limp and Steve caught him gently.  He was always lighter than Steve expected, and he managed to just cradle him to his chest.

“You didn’t know,” he murmured into his hair, in the hope he could stop the cycle, “you didn’t know. You didn’t know.”

He kept it up until he could feel some strength in him again. Until he felt Bucky’s hand tighten against his t-shirt. His cheek press into his chest.

“Don’t know how you’ve got so much faith in me.”

The words were muffled but Steve heard them. His laugh broke its way out of him.

“Buddy, even if I didn’t know you so well, you been beatin yourself up for two days about not stopping any of this happenin.”

Bucky gave a laugh that was more like a sob. He pulled back, and Steve could see him searching his face. “It’s my fault.”

Steve was pretty sure his heart broke. “Oh, Buck.”

He dragged him closer and Bucky went limp again against his chest. His hand was tight against the back of his shirt, and Steve knew he’d be crying if he could.

“We don’t know Gabe is dead,” Steve said into his hair.

“He is, Stevie.” Bucky pulled back again, as if he could sense Steve’s protest. “You know he is. He coulda walked the whole ship in the time he’s been gone. He’d have been back by now.”

Bucky ducked back into his chest. “I knew there was something. I knew it. And it was me. Bringin that thing on board cos some bastard back on Earth just fucking told me to.”

“It wasn’t your choice. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

Bucky took a deep, shuddering breath. “It doesn’t matter, Steve. Can’t you see that? I could… I could do anythin and I wouldn’t even know. I couldn’t even stop myself.”

“It’ll be ok.” Steve kissed the top of his head. “It’ll all be ok.”

Bucky didn’t make a sound.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the shortness again. Life, huh? What you gonna do? 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quiet interlude

 

When Steve went back into the room, he was confronted with Monty and Jim having a hushed discussion.

Bucky hadn't followed him. Steve ached with his absence. With the fear and the loss. But he understood.

How Bucky needed a minute, couldn't face the others right away. He'd gone under the pretence of checking on Jonesy, with a promise he'd be careful.

That he'd be safe.

Monty and Jim went silent. Both looking at him.

Steve felt the skin prickle in a shiver up his neck.

"So," he said, and his voice felt heavy in the room, "where do we go from here?"

The two shared a look. Steve could feel his heart thudding against his ribs.

"As far as I'm concerned," Monty said slowly, "nothing's changed."

"Yeah," Jim nodded.

Steve breathed. "I'd understand if you felt-"

"Are you kidding?" Jim cut him off with a laugh. "Did ya see what they had to do to him?"

Monty nodded. "It wasn't him."

"I don't-"

"No, no. The files had a fucking self destruct switch in them, so he couldn't access it accidentally. More than that," Jim said quickly so he couldn't interrupted, "they were willing to torpedo his fucking hard drive."

"Yes," Monty cut in, "even if he'd managed to circumvent the blocks, well… you saw."

"They'd expect us to shut down and file a damage report." Jim finished. "Faulty equipment. They wouldn't expect us to try and fix it on route."

Jim must have seen the look on his face, because he immediately backtracked. "The problem, I mean. Repairs like that, which aren't contract critical, get fixed terrestrially."

Surprisingly, that didn't help.

“Skip,” Monty cut in, dragging Steve’s attention away from Jim’s rapidly deepening hole, “what are we going to do?”

He’d been thinking about that. Ever since… well, ever since Dugan, really. The discussion with Jim had really settled it for him. This ship was not getting back to Earth, and frankly he didn’t have any desire to ever work for Weyland again anyway.

Not now.

Now, he would have razed the fucking company to the ground if he could have.

“First, we’re gonna go and find Gabe.”

Monty nodded, but Jim was frowning. “Not that I’m not behind that, but that doesn’t really solve our problem.”

Steve shot him a smile. As much charm as he could muster. “I said ‘first’, didn’t I?”

***

Steve’s heart was pounding in his ears as he went to meet Bucky, but he heard and saw nothing at all. No sign of the _thing_.

No sign of Gabe.

Bucky was on the bed in his quarters. The cat nudging good naturedly at his hand to keep him petting it. It would have been a domestic scene, if it weren’t for the look on his face.

He looked like he was a hundred miles away. At the bottom of a deep, dark pit.

For a second, Steve was sure that he had gone again, was trapped in some programming loop once again.

But then he looked up. Met Steve’s eye with the tiniest of smiles.

Steve let the door slide closed behind him. Let it lock.

The cat let out a disgruntled mewl as Bucky dropped his hand.

“So,” he said, “have they brought out the pitchforks yet?”

“They said the same as me.”

Bucky huffed. “Then you’re all idiots.”

Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He crossed the room in four steps, cupped Bucky’s head and kissed him. Hard.

Bucky was trying to say something, but he wasn’t pulling away, so Steve decided it could wait.

He got a knee up onto the bed, hooked a hand under Bucky’s arm to slide him further up the sheets. Bucky’s hand was curled into the back of his hair, just the right side of sharp. He was warm and solid beneath him, and Steve lost himself for a while.

When he pulled back, Bucky was looking at him, all sweet confusion and fierce love.

Steve had to stop himself from kissing him again.

“Do you remember that first contract?” Steve asked instead. “The deep core test?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said it like he had no idea where this was going.

Steve bent to kiss him again. His cheek. His forehead. The tip of his nose. “What made you tell me?”

“Tell you?”

Steve hummed. “I was your CO. I coulda had you decommissioned. But you told me that you’d broken your programming.” He scanned over Bucky’s flawless skin. “Why didn’t you keep hiding?”

Bucky was looking at him, and Steve didn’t interrupt, didn’t break that beautiful, perfect silence.

“You had sad eyes,” Bucky said finally, and Steve felt a laugh catch in his throat. Bucky nodded, decisively. As if he was confirming the memory. “You looked like you could use a friend.”

Now Steve did laugh. Thought he caught an edge of confusion in Bucky’s expression, and surged down to kiss it away.

He pulled back, still laughing.

The corners of Bucky’s eyes were crinkled in amusement. Indulgent. “What?”

Steve shook his head. “Nothing. I just love you.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

Steve laughed again. Maybe hysteria had set in. Maybe he’d finally just lost it. But Bucky was here and alive and so was he.

And he had a plan.

He shifted his weight slightly, confirmed that yes, his dick had indeed taken an interest in the proceedings, pressed between Bucky’s body and his own.

Bucky had definitely noticed, moving experimentally underneath him.

Steve groaned as the first friction sent a shiver down his spine. He hefted Bucky across the sheets again, used his body weight to keep him exactly where he wanted him. He ground down with a gasp, heard a thud as the cat noped on off of the bed.

“We’re gonna go find Gabe,” he said on the exhale.

Bucky was mouthing at his throat. Hand fisted in his hair.

“After that, anyone that wants to can get in the escape pod. This ship isn’t getting home.”

Bucky hummed a sweet acknowledgement.

“Then I’m gonna kill that fucking thing.”

Bucky pulled back with a frown, and Steve could’ve cried at the sudden lack of movement. “We can’t all get the pods?”

Steve shook his head and used all his willpower not to fist his cock. “Not enough space. Besides, I can’t take the risk. I’m gonna blow up the ship.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide. He shook his head wordlessly.

Steve kissed him. “Can’t let Weyland get their hands on it, Buck. Can’t let it get to any of the colonies either. To Earth-“

He broke off with a moan as Bucky started moving again, slowly. Never taking his eyes from Steve’s. “I want to say fuck them. Fuck them all for sending us out here. For everything.”

Steve was pretty sure he had a lifetime of reasons.

“You want to?”

Bucky nodded. “They’re not my kind.”

Any response Steve might have mustered died the second Bucky managed to get his leg between Steve’s thighs.

“But they are yours.”

Steve was nodding, panting. He screwed his eyes closed.

Bucky’s hand tightened in his hair again. “There are ‘you’s.” Steve felt Bucky’s teeth against his jaw. “And ‘Jacques’s. ‘Gabe’s and ‘Dugan’s.”

Bucky used his grip to drag his head up. Steve obligingly opened his eyes.

Bucky’s face was grim. “We can’t let it get back to Earth.”

“We can’t.”

“We’re going to kill it. Gonna light the fucker up.”

Steve found he was nodding again. He knew he oughta be disagreeing. Telling Bucky to get in the escape pod with everyone else.

But something about it felt right. That they should fight this fight together. That they should die together if it came to it.

Bucky looked like some fey creature with that set to his face, grey skinned and determined.

And Steve would follow him into whatever darkness.

Steve pushed him back again, back against the bed. “Do you know how much I love you?”

He was close and he didn’t have the willpower to hold back any longer.

He closed his eyes again. Felt his rhythm faltering as he pushed himself closer to the edge, but Bucky was there, urging him onwards.

He let himself tip over.

Wheezing “I’m yours” and “I love you” on every breath, until he caught up with himself again.

He was laughing again, face pressed against Bucky’s chest. Bucky trailing fingertips across the back of his neck. Drifting.

***

“Steve?”

“Hmmm.”

“Steve.” Bucky’s fingers were suddenly sharp against the back of his neck. “Look at Jonesy.”

Steve’s brain lumbered over the order, even as he was pushing himself upright. “B’ck?”

Bucky wasn’t looking at him, was fixed on something over his shoulder. He clumsily followed his gaze, trying to shake the fuzziness from his brain.

Jones was on his feet, staring at the wall opposite, ears flat back against his head. His tail was flicking sharply against the floor.

“S’up, Jonesy?”

Bucky’s hand shifted to his shoulder and held him fast. Not letting him get up.

Jones took a sudden step back, fur puffing up on his back. He let out a low rumbling growl, rising into a hiss.

“Jones,” Steve said again, at exactly the same time as Bucky said, “there’s something in the wall.”

“What?”

“Shhh.”

Jones yowled again, arching and backing up.

Then Steve heard it.

The skittering of claws against metal.

And a long slow hiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, once again I'm not dead!
> 
> Life has been a little bit interesting recently (in a good way), but will hopefully settle down a bit in the new year! 
> 
> If you're sticking with this I'd love to hear from you!


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